


Possibilities

by Rhyske



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Pitioss Theory, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Burn, lots of banter, time loops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-25 09:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 68,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13831092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhyske/pseuds/Rhyske
Summary: As a Kingsglaive, your duty is to your King and Kingdom, so when you're ordered to accompany Noctis and co on his way to Altissia, you have no right to refuse. Not that you don't try and huff about it the whole time you're catching up to the prince, but that's neither here nor there. You have more important things to worry about, like why your father would send you off to your twin brother when he's never bothered to tell anyone who you really are and kept you away from anyone who would ask questions.Why the change? What's his game? King Regis is always three steps ahead on the board, and you unknowingly have a very important role to play in a game that's been going on for lifetimes.





	1. Motorcycles Just Aren't for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my attempt at a happy ending. After watching the alternate ending to Episode Ignis, this story idea that's been bouncing in my head for about a year finally settled and I knew I had to write it.
> 
> I'm using the time loop theory and Pitioss theory in my story, just so you're all aware.
> 
> Upon uploading, 10 chapters have been finished and I'm still going strong and there's going to be a LOT. So strap in for the long haul, guys.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe your ears. Anger and irritation ignited within your chest, loosening your tongue as it always did. “I am a _Glaive._ It is my duty to stay and oversee your protection.”

“It is your duty to protect Lucis, under order of your king.” Regis understands your frustration. The signing of the peace treaty was to happen within the week and he was sending you away to chase down his son. Not to take him home, not to pass a message, but to join him on his journey. To protect him. “I am ordering you to protect the future king, for the future of your kingdom.”

“He has Gladiolus Amacitia and Ignis Scientia with him. On a journey that shouldn’t take but more than a couple weeks at the most.” You shouldn’t be so curt with your king, but dammit if he was being unreasonable! The prince had more than adequate protection. It was the city and the people that needed the most attention right now. Nobody in their right mind would trust Niflheim, and you knew King Regis to be always three steps ahead of any political game put in front of him.

Regis gives you a leveled look, keeping his calm composure even as you glare with a fire in your eyes. When he speaks next it’s with a tone of weariness but finality. “This is not up for debate, Praesidium.” The use of your last name makes you grit your teeth, but you keep your tongue still. “You will join up with my wayward son and stay by his side.”

Wanting nothing more than to simply walk out and forget this conversation ever happened, you instead place a hand above your heart and bend into a bow. “As you wish, my king.” Nearly choking on the words, you don’t even spare Regis a glance as you spin on your heel and march out, throwing the doors wide and wishing you had the strength to have them hit the hallway walls. You spare no one a glance as you stalk past, making your way with quick steps out of the palace and through the city of Insomnia. It wouldn’t take long to throw together a pack of essentials and be on your way, but leaving Insomnia with its fate uncertain left more than a bad taste on your tongue.

It was your home and where your everything resided. Your life, your childhood, family, friends. Becoming a Glaive was predestined, sure, but having the power to protect those important to you made the job worth it. Protecting what was important meant staying in the city, not chasing after a group of boys that not only had no need for you but put your very soul-searching questions to the forefront of your mind.

From a young age you had known the only road for you was within the ranks of the Glaives. You had powers one shouldn’t have, a history better left buried and a destiny molded for you even before your birth. A displaced soul, one would say, and while you knew who your family was, you knew you didn’t belong. Never would. Cast out and raised by one who only served, how could you even yearn for the position you were suppose to hold? For a father who put you in this life in the first place and a brother who believed himself to be an only child?

A brother you were now supposed to be chasing after.

Throwing your clothes violently into a backpack and zipping it up with such force you momentarily fear you’ve broken the damn thing when it snags and refuses to move, you thankfully manage to wiggle it into submission and finish packing away what little things you decide to bring. Taking a moment to simply stand in the middle of your small apartment and imagine a future where you get to return to it that night, you dig up your phone from your pocket and find Nyx’s name. 

He doesn’t answer, since he’s most likely still running around the palace, so you leave a short message as you throw the pack over your shoulders and grab your helmet. “Heya Nyx. It’s me. The king has so graciously sent me out of the city to track down the prince.” Yep, that’s heavy sarcasm in your voice. “I’ll make sure to take pictures of the wedding and tell you how delicious the food was.” That isn’t sarcasm in your voice. The food is sure to be amazing. “I’ll call you again when I reach Hammerhead, since you and Libertus are such worry warts. Wish I could see you before I head out, but I should make tracks while it’s still sunny out.” Wouldn’t wanna be stuck on the side of the road with a daemon, even if you could hold your ground. “Stay safe, and keep me posted on how things go here. Lots of love.”

You debate calling Libertus too, but figure Nyx is enough. Those two and Crowe were family in all but blood. The news would get to them both, if you didn’t return before Crowe got back from her mission first. Locking your door, donning your helmet, and securing your pack on the back of your motorcycle, you’re soon revving the engine and indeed making tracks out of the city. Literally. The dog came out of nowhere and you’d rather flip over your ride and scratch it all to hell than run a small thing like that over. With a few new bruises and an hour later, you’re leaving the city behind.

It’s not the first time you’ve left the city, but it is the first time you’ve left the city on your own accord and alone. Missions brought you everywhere, but always with a group of other Glaives. Sure, your guardian brought you around Duscae to get a feel for the outdoors and different terrain in preparation for being a Glaive, not to mention it was easier to practice with your magic outside of potential prying eyes, but the point was that you’d never been _alone._ It was thrilling with a bit of anxiety on the side. A very weird dish, not quite appetizing but just tasty enough to keep the butterflies in your stomach going. 

Finding time to enjoy the feel of air rushing past your speeding form, you ponder on pressuring concerns. Like how you’ll act around the group once you find them. Being professional has never done you wrong before, but you’ve also never had to talk to Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Lucis and your twin brother who knew nothing of your existence. That last tidbit was really the driving force of your worry and nerves. You knew that you and the prince were purposely meant to keep your paths from crossing, mostly with you taking roundabout ways through the palace to do just that. Not really something you ever complained about, since it kept you away from an awkward situation you had no drive to be a part of. Why the hands dealt suddenly didn’t matter now was a whole other can of worms to think about, one for a later time when you’d tackled the obstacle that is the prince.

Gladiolus and Ignis you had seen before and walked past many times in the palace. You knew of their roles, just as anyone else did, and you couldn’t help but hear that little tinkle of a voice in the back of your head every time your eyes laid upon them. That voice that wondered what your relation with them would be if you had remained as Noctis’ sister instead of a blurry face of a normal citizen. If maybe you would have had advisors yourself. Would they have been friends or simply people paid to spend time with you? The thoughts would then lead to a brief worry for Noctis before you wondered why it mattered and proceed to quickly snuff out whatever envy would awaken.

You never really blamed yourself for that bit of foul emotion. It was hard to not feel a bit of jealousy over what you could have had. The life. The family. With Regis being as secretive as he’s always been, your alienation to the Caelum line was known to no one but him and the one that raised you. Just like it was a wonder as to why you were allowed to know of your heritage, since your magical abilities hadn’t manifested at the time you were told. Noctis was coddled while you trained to be a Glaive and put your life on the line for a king that disowned you as his daughter. Instead of going through as a Glaive, you could have easily walked away from it all, or even tried for the throne yourself. Why Regis would risk any of that was a mystery, one you’d fallen asleep to many a time with no new answers.

It takes longer than you expect to reach Hammerhead, since you just had to stop to check out the base by Ostium Gorge. You don’t remember it being there before, but again, you’ve never taken the time to really look at your surroundings immediately outside of Insomnia before. Thankfully there’s one single road to Hammerhead, meaning there was no risks of getting lost, and the sun is just making its way under the horizon by the time you pull up. Cutting the engine and removing your helmet, you take a deep breath of the fresh air…before coughing as you’re met with a strong smell of oil. A quick glance shows there’s a garage right next to the pumps and the source of the smell.

Hopping off your motorcycle and giving your legs a good stretch, you pop open the entrance to your gas tank just as a woman in rather skimpy clothes comes sidling up next to you. “Well howdy.”

“Er…hi,” is all you manage to say as you take her in, noting the smear of grease and oil on her cheeks and clothes and…everywhere? Wow. Did she jump onto the engine of a car recently? It’s not a judging thought, just one driven with pure curiosity.

“It’s rare to see so many visitors from the Crown City so close to each other. Name’s Cindy, and might I add your motorcycle is one purdy girl! Look at her shine!” 

“Thanks?” You had spent a lot of money on the thing, but you hadn’t picked it out. In all honesty you weren’t much for vehicles in general, but you wanted something small and fast and a motorcycle just happened to fit that criteria. Nyx had delighted in doing the shopping for you, making up an excuse for why the price tag had been far above what your budget was suppose to be. 

“Those are some ugly scars.” Getting a good look at the side of your ride, at the evidence of the dog you didn’t hit, she tuts. “I could fix that right up for you in no time, if you wanted!”

The first answer that crosses your mind is no. What are a few scratches? As long as the thing still worked you didn’t really care what it looked like, plus it saved you money. Then you take a step back and realize that yes, you actually do kind of care about the appearance since you need to look as presentable as you can to the prince and his entourage.

“That’d be wonderful,” you say after your inner debate, giving the mechanic a smile.

“That’s great! I’ll get her all fixed up and shinin’ by the time you leave! There’s a caravan over that a way you can crash in for the night, and ol’ Takka should still be open if you’re hungry for some grub.”

Nodding in thanks, you say, “You mentioned visitors from the city other than me?” 

“Sure did. The prince and his friends rolled in not long ago.”

“Who’s askin’, anyway?” Another, more older voice pops into the conversation. 

Glancing behind Cindy and taking note of the slightly hunched back and gray beard, you keep your expression smooth as you reply, “[Name] Praesidium. A Kingsglaive.”

He hums as if in judgment, eyeing your attire as he nods. “Definitely looks like a Glaive outfit.”

“A Kingsglaive? I’ve only heard about y’all!” Cindy seems impressed, unlike the old man behind her. “What are you doing all the way out here?” She pauses only briefly, continuing her train of thought before you can start yours. “Let me guess, the prince?”

“Bingo.”

“He and his friends left earlier today. Most likely they’ve already made it safely to Longwythe by now.”

“Longwythe?” If memory served correctly, that wasn’t too far from Hammerhead. Again, just a straight shot down the road, but a glance at the dark street beyond the gas pumps has you debating if you should risk the daemons beyond. 

Your thoughts must be evident on your face as Cindy pipes up, “It’s dangerous out on the roads this time of night, but I won’t stop you if you insist on goin’ out. Your girl looks like she can easily outrun some pesky daemons.”

Giving your motorcycle a good hard stare as if it held all the answers in the universe, you find yourself promising Cindy you’ll come back for those scratch repairs as she gases you up and waves as you roll out. Out of good courtesy you wave back before leaning in and once again hear nothing but the purr of the engine.

You’re not far from Hammerhead before you feel your pocket vibrate, but it’s at just that moment when you flick your eyes down and remove one hand from its handle that you hear the screech of a creature and your momentum suddenly go from perfectly horizontal with the road to perfectly vertical with it before being flung from your seat. Screaming out a profanity, whether at life or the fact that this is the second time in 24 hours that you’ve shot over your motorcycle, you hit the asphalt hard, hissing out a breath as your shoulder takes the impact. Years of training kick in as you roll to your feet, dagger in hand and ready for an attack. 

You’ve trained for all sorts of situations, ranging from one on one duels to being completely outnumbered. Practicing with trained professional hunters to learning what the best way to get an advantage over different species of daemons. What you didn’t train for was a sliding hunk of metal making for your death. Your motorcycle, to be more precise, makes an awful nails on chalkboard sound as it barrels into you, forcing you to once more flip over it and this time smashing your face against the hot blacktop. Well, it would have been your face if you hadn’t been wearing your helmet, but you were, so instead of a broken nose you instead watch with wide eyes as your visor cracks and your head spins with the impact.

Feeling suddenly claustrophobic, you struggle to unclasp the straps and release your skull from the helmet, not only to get a good breath of fresh air but for the pressing fact that you just hit something and you can’t see shit if you need to protect yourself. Practically throwing the now separated head apparel to the ground and quickly reaching for your dropped dagger, confusion clouds your thoughts as you take in your situation.

For one thing, there’s no body of whatever you hit. A daemon, maybe? But what daemon is stupid enough to run straight into a moving vehicle? Your answer comes in the form of four men dashing for your hunched and battered form, but with one’s shout of “Where did it go?” and another’s “What was that noise?” you come to the assumption that you aren’t the priority.

You become one pretty quickly, however, when their eyes fall upon your form and their flashlights blind your vision. After a split second of processing, the questions come in a barrage.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened?”

“Did you hit that goblin?”

“Is anything broken?”

Not only in a barrage, but over each other as well. Holding up a hand, you make the judgment of their threat and sheathe your blade, rising unsteadily to your feet and feeling the already forming bruises on your shin where your reliable ride decided to betray you. “One at a time, please,” you breathe out.

After glancing at each other, one takes a step toward you, a calm, accented voice reaching your ears. “Are you hurt?”

Holding your throbbing shoulder, you pass your free hand over your face as you assess your pain. “Yes. Don’t think anything is broken.” Could they lower the brightness on their flashlights? Though your eyes are slowly starting to adjust, you don’t like the disadvantage it gives you if you were wrong and these four intended you harm.

“Looks like your ride is totaled.” A more gruff and deeper voice belongs to these words, and you watch as his hulking form approaches your scratched and dented motorcycle. 

Turning your attention to it briefly, you tut at what you see. You weren’t sure how much damage it had taken, or if it’d even still be usable. You didn’t even know what you had hit, for crying out loud!

“It must not have been that bad of a wreck, if you’re still standing.” A cheery voice, one pleasant to the ears. 

“We can take you to Hammerhead to see Cindy. You can use our trunk to stash the motorcycle.”

Your head whips with incredible speed to that last voice, eyes squinting as you make out the familiar black, short hair and facial features that were undeniably your brother’s. 

Finding a cat pawing at your tongue, you swallow down your nervousness as you ask, “Prince Noctis?”

“Uh, yeah,” he responds uncertainly, probably nervous at how intensely you stare at him.

Under normal circumstances, you’d ignore proper protocol that demanded falling to one knee and instead default to the still rather formal hand over your heart and bow. But since your body was starting to ache and thus lock up, you opt for a nod and what you hope is a professional, “I’ve been searching for you.” For less than 24 hours. Did that really consist of a search? “I’m [Name] Presidium, a Kingsglaive under orders of King Regis Lucis Caelum to accompany you on your way to Altissia.”

All those titles and stiffness nearly burns your tongue, but you swallow down that particular discomfort as you size up the prince. Not once have you had the chance to speak to him like this, or even properly see him. Black hair like your own, that gentle curve of the eyes… If it wasn’t for the fact that he inherited your mother’s eye color, you do have to admit that he looks like the male version of yourself.

That uncomfortable thought makes you hope that nobody wonders about the resemblance, least of all Noctis himself.

While you’re giving Noctis a good look, the person you’ll soon learn goes by the name Ignis is busy giving _you_ a once over. Noting the Kingsglaive outfit, slightly altered to fit your fashion sense. The dagger hilt and sheath, the same design as given to every Glaive. Nor does the small detail of your raised shoulders and tense features miss his observation. 

Though thankfully, he chalks it up to you having recently been in an accident over what it truly is: an internal panic attack.

“Nice to meet you,” the prince finally responds to you.

Before any sort of awkward silence settles, the prince’s advisor steps up. “I believe the more pressing concern is tending to [Name] and getting us all safely to Hammerhead.”

You can’t agree more.


	2. Meet and Greet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy FFXV Royal Edition release day!! Can't wait to play through all those juicy new scenes in Insomnia!
> 
> So I've gotten almost 200 hits and 20 kudos from just one chapter? You guys are absolutely amazing, thank you all so much! <3 This fic started out and still is a fun thing I do on my free time, a means to try out a new type of writing style and such. The fact that one chapter got so much attention is absolutely _mind blowing_ to me!
> 
> I _do_ go more into depth with magic in a later chapter, btw.

Cindy nearly has a heart attack when she sees the state of your motorcycle. You don’t blame her. When she starts fussing over the state you’re in you wave her off and hobble over to the caravan, saying something about promising her pay in the morning. Really all you want to do is just lie down and forget the day ever happened, but you know you should check out your wounds first. So, finding a stray mirror in one of the caravan’s drawers and shrugging off your jacket, you set to work trying to find the right angle to catch the bruise you feel forming.

Easier said than done, however, since one mirror isn’t working and you’re too tired to get up off the bed you’ve claimed as yours. You’re rolling up your pants to get a look at your legs when Gladiolus walks in. You’d pieced together who was who while squished between Noctis and his Shield on the way back to Hammerhead, although Prompto had been a new face and in need of introduction.

“How you holding up?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. 

Rolling your shoulders and hiding the wince it brings, you sigh. “Could be a lot worse.” A frown creases your face as you run your fingers over your yellowing shins.

“You don’t look like someone who flew off a motorcycle.”

Was that a compliment? You were taking that as a compliment. “Thanks?” You pause as you roll your pant legs back down. “Mind taking a peek at my shoulder? I can’t really see it.”

“Sure.” You really weren’t sure how the five of you were going to fit in this tiny caravan since Gladio only takes two steps to reach you. Was it more like one and a half? Why did it even matter? You turn your back to him as he lowers himself next to you, and you’re slightly surprised by his light touch as he prods your shoulder. “Doesn’t feel broken.”

“Good. Just bruised then. Thanks.” Regardless of how gentle he’s trying to be, it’s impossible for his calluses to not chafe your sensitive skin. You wonder how many injuries he’s had to assess for the prince.

“Any time.” Rising back onto his feet, he makes for the outside while throwing over his shoulder, “Iggy’s going to be making dinner soon. You can hang with us in the meantime.”

You nod, wondering if you should venture out there or stay in here. Usually you’d be all for conversation, but not with Noctis. Even just thinking his name gives you a sense of dread, so you crawl onto the bed, grab the pillow and proceed to sink into it, heaving out a huge sigh as your body relaxes.

Feeling your pocket vibrate again, you’re shocked to find your phone in one piece when you fish it out. Seeing Nyx’s name lighting up your screen, you suck in a guilty breath as you answer and press the phone to your ear. 

“Finally!”

“Hey, yeah. Sorry.” Man this bed was comfortable. You stifle a yawn. “I, uh… I got distracted.”

You can hear his sigh, but unlike Libertus, he shrugs away his discontent and accepts the situation for what it is. One reason you tended to get along better with the wannabe hero. Parental figures of any sort made you uncomfortable, even though Libertus was more like the protective older brother than anything else. “You in Hammerhead?”

“Yep.”

“Did I wake you up? You were the one that said you’d call.”

“If you had, you’d be dealing with a lot grumpier girl.” Movement from the entrance catches your attention, and you loll your head to the side to spot Prompto, camera in hand. You raise an eyebrow as he stops suddenly and uncertainly. “I made it in one piece to Hammerhead. Yaaaay,” you droll out as you hold up a single digit to Prompto. _Give me a minute._

“Royal guard duty. At least you get to see the sights.”

“I’d rather be back in the city.”

“We can handle things without you.” There’s a hesitance to his words, the reason you know all too well.

“Libertus still having doubts?” Absently, you watch as Prompto fiddles with his camera, flashing him a smile when he catches your eye. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“I don’t blame him for feeling the way he does,” you hear Nyx breathe out.

“Neither do I. Trust me. Just…do what you do best and be there for him, since Crowe and I can’t be.” Turning onto your side, you close your eyes. If you pretend hard enough, it’s like you’re back in your apartment, with the day having been a daydream. “Speaking of, I wonder how Crowe’s doing.” 

It’s nice to hear a bit of a smile come back in Nyx’s voice. “I’m sure she’s fine. I swear nothing can kill her.”

“Psh, okay Mr. Hero. How are _you_ not dead yet?”

“Protagonists never die.” You can practically feel his wink from across the line.

“Yeah, okay hotshot. Whatever you say. Call me if anything comes up, alright? I’m ready to pass the hell out.”

His chuckle carries over just fine as he follows it with, “Talk to you later, miss.”

Hearing the line drop, you open your eyes and find the blondie still awkwardly standing by the door. “What’s up? Prompto, right?”

“Yeah! I, uh,” looking down at his camera, he lifts it as he continues, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay getting photographed.”

You blink at him. “What?”

You’re pretty sure it actually takes him three good steps to reach you, being shorter than Gladiolus and all. “I thought it’d be a cool idea to document our travels.” Sitting lightly at your feet, you’re forced to sit up as he tilts the camera’s screen in your direction.

What you see actually impresses you. The guy has a talent, and the more he flips through the pictures, the more you start to realize that while this may be a mission to you, to the boys it was a vacation. They’d probably never taken one step out of Insomnia before, making everything was new and exciting to them. It brings a smile to your face.

“That’s really cool, Prompto,” you find yourself saying, a cheer making your chest feel light. “You gonna print them out and make an album when you get back home?”

The shutterbug physically brightens at your compliment, his enthusiasm nearly palpable. “The best ones, yeah. And any others the guys want personally.” 

“That’s so cool,” you hear yourself repeating. “Just make sure to be careful when you snap pictures during combat. If I’ve learned anything today, it’s that literally anything can hit you.”

Your chuckle prompts his own. “Hopefully Cindy can repair it quickly. I wonder how expensive those repairs are going to be.”

Groaning, you flop back onto the bed. “It’s going to make a dent in my bank account, that’s for sure. Speaking of, where’s my bag?” Was it even in one piece, after being dragged across asphalt? Oh shit, what if your wallet was lost, lying back on the road for anyone to pick up? That thought has you on your feet, pain temporarily forgotten.

“It was…kind of in one piece?”

That was not helpful, and you’re out of the caravan and glancing about the chairs and tables set outside in a matter of a second. Noctis and co watch you curiously for a few moments before Ignis pipes up. “Your bag is by the door.”

Spinning on your heel, you fight back the embarrassment as you bend down and unzip the rather disheveled looking pack. It literally does look like it was dragged across a road, but thankfully the zippers still work and everything inside is untouched, though you are definitely going to need a new bag ASAP.

Slinging it over your shoulder and feeling some threads snap, you turn to the boys, specifically Ignis, and ask, “Mind if I stash this in the car?”

“Not at all,” comes the reply. “I have to grab some ingredients anyway.”

Cindy had graciously refueled the Regalia when you all had pulled up, though you’re not sure that she would have had she seen the state of your motorcycle beforehand. Granted, the whole thing didn’t fit in the trunk and Gladio had managed to make a form of impromptu straps to keep it from flying back onto the road it seemed to love so much, so you suspect she just thought it was some sort of junk picked up during the gang’s exploring. Maybe even a weird package needing to be delivered. Glancing at the garage, you wonder how long it’ll take before you have wheels again. While riding with the boys wasn’t bad, it was definitely smothering being squished between a guy who literally takes up two seats because he’s so built to another guy you don’t want to touch even with a ten foot pole.

Popping open the trunk, you find an empty spot between some fold up chairs to stash your pack. Ignis, meanwhile, fills an empty bag with ingredients.

“Any allergies I should be aware of?” he asks as he eyes up a tomato. “Any food avoidances?”

“Avoidances?” you echo, raising an eyebrow at him. “No, not really. To both questions.”

“Wonderful. Glad to know there’s only one with a special palette in our group.” 

It takes you a moment to decipher his words. “Which one of you is picky?”

“Care for a guess?”

Peering past him to the three boys sitting around a singular table tapping at their phones, rather furiously you note, you think on the culprit. Couldn’t be Ignis, since he seems the dedicated cook. At least, it looks like he knows what he’s doing, the way he’s selectively picking out those ingredients. Noctis and Gladiolus grew up in the palace, and from what snatches of food you’d tasted… Well, anyone who grew up eating that kind of food couldn’t possibly be picky since everything tasted good. So that only left…

Flicking your eyes back to Ignis, you ask, “Prompto?”

A hint of a smile ghosts across his lips before he responds to you. “Noct, actually.”

Both your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Are you serious? With the cooks he probably grew up with?”

Green eyes flick your way in amusement. “He has an aversion to vegetables.”

Folding your arms, you can’t help but train your disbelieving look at the prince, blissfully unaware of your current judging of him. “He’s like a child.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” 

You’re taken aback by the response, not only because you didn’t intend to speak that particular thought out loud to the prince’s advisor, but also for the fact that Ignis’ reply was downright disrespectful to Noctis. Instead of reprimanding you for your rude words, something you were well used to by now when it came to your true thoughts of the Caelum line (your guardian would have smacked you upside the head for that particular comment about the prince), the _prince’s royal advisor had agreed with you_. Full of tease and amusement, sure, but that still didn’t keep you from almost physically reeling from the shock.

Hefting the now filled pack over his shoulder and slamming the trunk shut, he takes your confusion in stride as you follow him back to the caravan. “You’ll find that our little ragtag group has done away with most formalities. As Noct would say, just be yourself.” And with that little tidbit of advice, he leaves you to the prince and his remaining entourage screaming at each other as he starts up dinner.

“How did you win that?! I had it!” 

“Maybe our little princeling is cheating.”

“I am not cheating! You two just need to git gud.”

Grabbing a chair farthest from the trio and leaning back with faint amusement, you ponder what Ignis told you as you watch the three smack talk each other. Ever since you could remember you’ve been hounded with the idea that you had to be prim and proper and above all respectful when around royalty and any of their advisors. A propriety you liked to throw out the window at every given moment, since you firmly believed that anyone in need of respect had to earn it. Granted, the King had done a lot to protect the people in his Kingdom, but recently he seemed to have betrayed literally everyone who hadn’t grown up in Insomnia and causing many to question his reign in light of the “peace” signings meant to happen at the end of the week. The quotes were there on purpose, since none trusted the Empire. You’d seen the backlash first hand with Libertus and other fellow Glaives, and even you yourself weren’t quite happy with the way things were going. Your closest friends were from outside of the Walled City, after all.

Yet as you watch the way the Prince’s Shield taunts his charge and Prompto, a normal civilian with no special standing, smacks his friend’s back and not so subtly ruffles his hair in revenge, you can’t help but think that it all looks so…normal. Like something you and your own group would do on days off, or at nights when you were all winding down from a day’s work. Noctis takes it all in stride, reacting like any friend would – scoffing at Gladio and warning Prompto to sleep with one eye open. No reprimands, so stifling behavior, just…three friends spending some time together.

It was like experiencing social whiplash.

You’re still sitting there in silent contemplation when Ignis eventually emerges with rather delicious looking plates. When you give your thanks to the chef and show some form of life, the three who were previously giving you space wave you over furiously and don’t give until you’re all seated at one of the rounded tables. Nobody seems to comment about how small the table really is and how it can only really hold about two and a half plates, but at some point without you everyone had agreed that you and Noctis would be two of those plates, with Prompto hovering at the edges.

You weren’t really sure what to expect from the food, but with one bite you’re nearly whimpering in delight. Ignis _definitely_ knows what he’s doing when it comes to food and you continuously praise him as you dig in, almost to the point where you fear you’re making the poor guy uncomfortable. It’s also a good way to distract yourself from the fact that you’re literally only inches from the prince and your nerves don’t seem to like that. Relief is almost a physical wave that releases from you when the chef pipes up with a question.

“Rather young for a Glaive, wouldn’t you say?” he asks, settling his eyes on you over his glass as he sips his drink. “The youngest on record, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s what they say,” you respond with a shrug, defaulting to your controlled air of nonchalance whenever the subject of your peculiar situation is brought up.

“It’s impressive,” comes Gladio, giving you a grin. “But we won’t know how good you really are until we see it for ourselves.”

“Dude, she’s a _Kingsglaive_. Aren’t they like, the elite of the elite?”

Gladio nods. “That’s what people call ‘em.”

“Hey,” you say, waving your fork at the Shield. “We train hard to be called Glaives.”

Ignis jumps in to take your side. “It’s true. Not all recruits become full-fledged members. In fact, not many make their ranks.”

“How come?” pipes up the shutterbug, food temporarily forgotten.

“It’s the magic,” you respond, lowering your utensil. “We’re all given the ability to use the Crystal’s power, granted by the King. But not many people can actually get the hang of it.” While almost everyone who sought out Glaive status wanted the power to protect their homelands, you actually used the title as a shield. As a Glaive, nobody questioned your use of magic.

When your magical powers manifested, it become quickly obvious that you had a unique talent for the art. The more you practiced, the better you became, and it was the potential you showed that made Regis decide that the best way to utilize your abilities and keep you safe from prying eyes was as a Kingsglaive.

“I guess that’s understandable,” Prompto nods. “Gotta be the cream of the crop to work directly under the King.” 

Conversation falls as everyone finishes up their meal and Ignis gathers the plates. Normally you’d offer assistance, but considering you were literally hit by a motorcycle a couple hours ago, you instead lean back in your chair as exhaustion threatens to sweep you away.

“There are two beds and one couch. Two of us can fit in one bed if we squeeze,” comments Ignis as he gathers the last late.

“Shouldn’t [Name] get a bed? She is hurt and all,” says Prompto.

“I can take the couch,” you quickly jut in, waving away Prompto’s concern. “I just have a few bruises, nothing life threatening.”

“Did you bring a charger?” Comes Noctis, phone in hand.

“Of course. I didn’t think to grab it from my bag though.”

Ignis quickly tosses Noctis the keys and soon you find yourself awkwardly walking a few steps behind the prince as you mosey your way on over to the fancy car for the second time that night. Trying your very best to ignore the way your stomach churns, the silence between you two only adds to the anxiety. Popping the trunk and stepping aside, his voice breaks the quiet as you reach for your pack.

“So how was everything, back in the city?”

Keeping your eyes from sliding to him, you respond flippantly, “Oh, you know, some people hate the signings, some people have embraced it. Anything to stop the fighting, right?” Whether it be from your nerves or the fact you’ve never cared for royalty, you can’t keep the venom off your tongue. “I honestly wish I was back there instead of here. You obviously don’t need my protection.” Slamming the trunk closed, you make to step away from this whole encounter before Noctis stops you.

“I’m sorry.” When he notices you’ve stilled, unaware that his sudden apology has rooted you in place, he continues. “I’m sure you have friends and family back home.” Placing a hand to the back of his neck, his words are practically dripping with his own nervousness. “But I hope you come to enjoy being with us.”

The sincerity in his tone has caught you off guard, and you find the tension leaving your muscles as a result. Crossing your arms, your next sentence, while cold, is missing its bite. “A mission isn’t supposed to be fun.”

You’re certain if there were crickets around, they’d be as loud as a car horn. You give Noctis only a few seconds before you start walking again, away from the horrible situation and the thoughts tumbling in your mind.


	3. Let's Go Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 35 kudos and over 300 hits! You guys are absolutely amazing, and the comments make me smile for days <3 Thank you all so much for taking time out of your day for this little fic of mine!
> 
> I'll admit, this story is turning out to be told very slowly (I'm still writing for events happening in the game's chapter 3 and it'll be like that until like, probably chapter 15 or so for the fic), so hopefully you all are into character relationship building and such because I live off that shit. I wasn't lying when I tagged this fic for slow burn and lots of banter.

Memory is a fickle thing. It always works when you don’t want it to and never works when you do. Currently you’re struggling with the latter, mind not comprehending how you got onto the couch with your shoes kicked off and snuggled warmly in a blanket when the last thing you remember is claiming an outlet to charge your phone with. Hell, you think you spy even your jacket strewn across one of the counters near the door.

Squinting away from the sunlight threatening to blind you through the blinds, you debate risking the melting rays anyway when instead you find yourself staring at the sleeping prince. Bundled up with his blanket hiding his face, the only reason you know it’s Noctis at all is from the black hair that managed to escape, sticking up at odd angles like they’re reaching for air. After a moment of contemplation, you mirror his great idea and shut out the day, burrowing into the warmth you’ve generated throughout the night and deciding that a couple more minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt.

Ignis has other ideas, however, as you hear the caravan door open and the advisor announce, “It’s morning. Time to get up.”

Hating the morning must run in the family, because you don’t move a muscle and no sound comes from the brother a handful of feet away. Briefly you wonder if Regis squeezes in extra sleep as well, or if it was your mother that had this awful habit. Maybe both?

You’re hyper aware of the footsteps approaching, but breathe a silent sigh of relief when you hear, “Time to face the morning,” and a pained grumble. Taking advantage of Ignis’ distraction, you shift so your face is pressed against the back of the couch and your back to the two. You even manage to find that tug of sleep again, but it all ends up a futile endeavor when you hear your name and soon after feel a hand on your shoulder.

Not even trying to hide the groan, you curl into yourself before unfurling like an armadillo, bleary eyes taking in the amused expression of Ignis and he removes his hand and instead taps his chin with a finger. “You two look remarkably alike.”

You’re definitely awake now with that comment. Trying to fight down the rising panic, you keep your breath even as you squint in feigned confusion. “What are you talking about?” The words have to be mumbled to hide the fear, and you play up the groggy Glaive and yawn, rubbing your eyes.

“Disheveled hair, misty eyes, even the same puddle of drool on your pillow. Looks like Noctis has a competitor for the title of Most Comatose.”

“Mornings suck,” you hear Noctis complain, and you can’t help but smile as you hear the whump of a body collapsing onto a mattress and his whine as Ignis turns around and tuts, claiming his poor charge’s blanket and tossing it onto the nearest chair. “Maybe you just don’t understand how dreadful mornings are because you never sleep.”

“I sleep.”

“Four hours is far from decent.”

“Thankfully Ebony exists.”

“Is that why you have such an addiction to the thing?”

You startle as Ignis grabs your own bedding. Quickly grabbing and tugging it back, you look him straight in the eye. No, your eyes were _not_ drooping! Look! Look how fierce they are!

Raising an eyebrow at your instant defiance, he decides to leave you alone to turn back to Noctis, patting his cheek to prevent him from doing what you almost did. You’re starting to think he enjoys the power he has right now, bullying the very prince of his Kingdom and a Glaive that has stabbed more living things than all of them combined.

“We have a busy day ahead of us. Cindy is almost done with the motorcycle’s repairs, which means we’re in need of accumulating the sufficient funds.”

“What are you talking about?” Sitting up and wincing as you go to stretch, you rub your shoulder with a frown. “I have my card. I’m sure I’m able to cover whatever gil she needs.”

“Cards aren’t accepted outside of the Crown City,” informs the advisor, a small amused smile turning up his lips.

“We learned that the hard way,” adds Noctis, rubbing his face with his hands and heaving a huge yawn. 

You wish you had a table to slam your forehead against. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Not in the slightest, unfortunately.” Motioning for Noctis to sit up, Ignis keeps his gaze trained on the prince until he does so. “Luckily Takka has some hunts ready for us.”

Testing your shoulder and gently tapping your shins, you finally throw the warm and tempting blanket off your person. “I can handle my own hunts. You guys don’t need to help me.”

“I certainly don’t doubt it.” Satisfied that sleep is losing its hold on Noctis, Ignis finally turns his emerald eyes back to you. “However, it gives Noctis and Prompto more combat practice.”

“Oh?” Turning teasing eyes on the prince, you can’t help the smile that snakes across your face. “You saying the prince isn’t good at holding his own?”

“I’m perfectly capable in fights,” shoots back Noctis. “And I’ll prove it.”

You hum, in just as much of a teasing way as it is thoughtful. Sliding your dagger out from under your pillow, you ignore the way both the boys’ eyebrows shoot up as you strap it securely back to your person. “Speaking of, it’d also be good practice in working together.” Grabbing your jacket, you pause briefly. “Not that I expect us to be getting into many fights, preferably none at all, but my job is to have precautions on top of precautions.”

“As it is for all of us,” comments Ignis, following you to the door. “I’ll be back in five minutes if you aren’t with us, Noct.”

“Yeah, yeah,” is all you manage to hear as you grab your shoes and step out into the world.

Prompto is almost instantly by your side, a piece of toast extended toward you like an offering. “Good morning! I saved you and Noctis a few pieces of breakfast.” When his baby blues rise to your unbrushed hair, you feel your cheeks heat up at his snort. “It’s almost as bad as my bed head!”

Snatching your piece of toast and stuffing it grumpily in your mouth, you do your best to smooth down your unruly strands into something presentable. Gladio, meanwhile, comes strolling up and whumps his hand right onto your already aching shoulder.

“I’m guessing Specs already filled you in?” he asks, quickly adding, “Shit, sorry,” when you hold your screaming wound and shoot him a pained look. 

“About how cards aren’t accepted anywhere but in the City? Yeah, I got the memo,” you sigh, frowning as you take another bite and let your shoes fall to the ground. “We should be able to collect enough by the end of the day.”

“Some hunts don’t go for a lot,” informs Prompto, rolling back on his heels. “It took us almost two days.”

“Two days? For what?” you ask, brushing dust off your socks before stuffing your feet into your shoes. 

“Uh, well…”

Gladio doesn’t hesitate to throw his friend under the bus. “The one time we let blondie here—” a thumb is thrust at his friend “—drive the Regalia, it breaks down and we end up having to push the damn thing the rest of the way to Hammerhead.”

“Hey!” In his panic, Prompto decides if he’s going to be run over by some metaphorical bus, he isn’t going alone. “Ignis stayed in the driver’s seat most of the time while _we_ pushed!”

“Someone had to make sure it didn’t go into the wrong lane,” comes the cool response of Ignis, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth, “lest we have an even more wrecked Regalia.”

“It wasn’t my fault she just puttered into death! If anything, it means she was on her last legs before I even touched the wheel!”

“Are you insinuating something there, Prompto?” comes the voice of the prince, finally deciding to grace you all with his presence.

“No, not at all!” Prompto defends almost immediately, the guilt in his voice making you almost choke on the last bite of your toast. He was a bad liar, but Noctis simply taps his friend on the shoulder with a fist and yawns.

“Right, so… Hunts.” His brain was definitely still waking up. “Takka has hunts.”

“Not before eating something,” interjects Ignis.

“Most important meal of the day.” Snatching his piece of toast and taking a groggy bite, you watch as Noct heads for Takka’s diner.

After passing brief glances at each other, Gladio huffs a sigh and trails after him. Probably to make sure he doesn’t run into anything.

“Who would’ve thought the prince of Lucis hated mornings?” you find yourself asking out loud, claiming a chair and stretching out your legs. 

“Dude,” comes the blonde, an excited smile stretching his lips, “who would’ve thought a Glaive hated mornings?”

“We’re not talking about me,” you deflect, chuckling. “I’m not some royal.” 

“But you _are_ an elite.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t hate mornings.”

The ease of conversing with Prompto comes as naturally as breathing. You’re not sure why, exactly, but he’s just so… _open_ with everything he says and does, like he has no idea where to put his heart except on his sleeve for everyone to see. It’s endearing and comforting to know that you’d see right through any lie he’d try to utter. Not just that, but you suspect his status as nothing more than a common citizen helps. He’s not as threatening as the rest of the gang. 

Not that you expected them to do anything to you. No, not threatening in that way. Royalty was something you grew up feeling nervous around, at the age before you were old enough to start feeling the anger and frustration. Nobody, _especially_ the Caelum line or anyone close to them, were to know who you really were. Flight became your go to out of necessity, and even now your stomach knotted knowing how close you were to your taboo. _Three_ of your taboos, to be precise, one that was watching you and Prompto as you talked. His eyes held amusement, but you felt that weight all the same – he was watching you.

Your careful barriers were up, fortified tenfold by your companions, but having a mission in mind helped calm your nerves. You couldn’t wait until your ride was fixed, knowing you’d be spared being squished between two bodies on the burning leather of the Regalia’s seats.

“Who thought leather was a good idea in a desert?” you lament, propping yourself on the crown of your seat once the top goes down. Socked feet are now the only things to be touching the damn leather ovens, since you didn’t want to be rude and trample dirt on anything but the floor of the car.

“His Majesty,” responds Gladio, propping his chin on his palm as he leans against the door.

“Insomnia isn’t this hot,” defends Noctis, running fingers through his hair.

“I wouldn’t advise sitting like that,” interjects Ignis as he spots your position once you’ve all successfully rolled out of Hammerhead and started onward to your first target.

“Momma Ignis is at it again,” sighs Prompto in the passenger seat, looking back and giving you a wink. 

The wind feels good from where you’re perched, but it’s undeniable that the heat is festering under all your clothing. Glaives were donned neck to toe in sturdy leather as a reliable and flexible pair of armor. Your attire was the only reason you had walked away from your accident last night without a single scratch, but it definitely was not meant to be worn while sitting under the unbearable sun all day. While it wouldn’t be the first time you had suffered like this, you at least now have the luxury to know you can shed your jacket without worry of being jumped by enemies. 

“Glaives are split into two main factions in battle,” you find yourself saying as Ignis pulls over and the boys file out. “One acts as the frontline, getting up close and personal with the enemy. The second stand back and weave spells.” With reluctance, you shrug into your jacket and inwardly groan at how the temperature feels like it just skyrocketed by a hundred degrees. “Not that the frontlines can’t use magic, but larger spells require more concentration, and some just simply aren’t cut out for one or the other.” Normally it would feel uncomfortable with four pairs of eyes on you, especially these four pairs, but the prospect of battle, no matter how small it was, wrapped you in that familiar state of calm and focus. “I can act as both if need be.” Crowe has a knack for magic, Libertus has a knack for melee, Nyx was a bit in between, and you got more than enough practice with all three of them.

“Good to know.” Taking point, Gladio starts the trek.

Suddenly Cindy’s choice of wardrobe makes sense. You haven’t even taken ten steps and you swear you feel heat stroke. Oh, if only this were a vacation, where the prince of Lucis wasn’t under your protection and you could actually don something breathable. Or at least leave the jacket behind, but not knowing the battle style of any of your four companions, it felt safer overall knowing you have protection if you needed to take a hit or two.

Gladio calls attention to the herd of dualhorns ahead, your targets, and you decide to follow the group’s lead to get a feel of how they work. This results in you keeping back as you watch what seems to be impeccable teamwork, built over years of practice and study. Prompto’s a bit of an exception, however, but it’s immediately apparent that Ignis takes the role of strategist as he directs the gun wielder when he hesitates and everyone else when a dualhorn staggers or shows any opening. It’s amazing how the man can keep his cool during so much chaos, keeping an eye on practically everything at once.

Gladio definitely flows well in battle, though it’s to be expected, being the prince’s personal bodyguard and all. But you can tell there’s a lack of experience there, hidden under all that bravado and confidence. There’s a limit to how much one can learn in the confines of a well protected city, and to your trained eye, it’s hard to miss. He has the strength and the knowledge, and he’s even had the chance to spar with some of your fellow Glaives, but being in a real heated battle is nonexistent in a training room, when lives weren’t on the line.

And where do you even start with Prompto? Poor boy has it rough. He lacks the stamina the others have, and his shots aren’t always spot on, sometimes even missing entirely. Yet there’s that drive and determination to learn and improve, and he’s keeping up well with the others. You make a mental note to give him tips if you ever get the chance. 

Then there’s Noctis. Ignis may be the one watching the battlefield, but when Noctis gives out a call, everyone obeys. His warping could use improvement, yet through experience you know he’ll catch on to the extent of that particular magical talent quickly, with all the hits he’s working to avoid. It’s impressive how quickly he’s able to swap weapons in his personal, magical armory, yet you also note how one weapon exists at any given time, leading you to believe he hasn’t mastered the focus needed to summon more than one. There’s a tinge of grief as you understand that you could help him, but the risk of doing so is too high.

There’s also a bit of pride, seeing that you’re at least able to trump Noctis in one thing. No matter how princely he was raised, you understood the depths of the Crystal’s magic better than he does.

“I’ll admit,” you say, placing your hands on your hips as the boys, dusty but smiling, make their way back to where you’d been observing, “you all have some damn good teamwork.”

“Damn straight,” instantly comes the Shield. “Where were you in that battle?”

“I was watching,” you defend, knowing Gladio is just trying to tease. “I invite you four to do the same for the next target. I’ll prove my Glaive status isn’t just a title. Besides, it’s not often you get the luxury to see how a new teammate operates in battle from the outside. It’s easier to get an idea that way. And, I was more than prepared to save your asses if you actually needed help.”

“Wait, are you saying you’re going to take on the sabertooths alone?” Prompto asks incredulously, before pausing and adding, “Or is it saberteeth?”

You couldn’t deny you were eager to prove your worth. As the youngest Glaive in history so far, it was common to hear theories of how you made it into the elite ranks. Some wondered if you had some rich relatives that paid your way in or if you had just barely scraped your way through. Others conjectured if you ever really went on missions and instead were just a name, a sort of mascot for your peers to work harder. ‘If she can climb the ranks that fast, what’s stopping you from doing the same?’ Not that you ever climbed any sort of rank, entry without military time restricted to non-city born Glaives only (and you, with strings being pulled from the King himself), but you worked damn hard for this position and it frustrated you to no end that pampered citizens and nobles alike simply refused to believe that you could hold your own.

Granted, they also didn’t know that you had gotten more familiar with the night and the daemons that roamed its lands before you had hit high school age, though even now an Iron Giant wasn’t anything to sniff at. Preferably it was something to run away from, but you at least were knowledgeable enough of its movements to be able to avoid and dance your way around one if escape wasn’t an option. Sometimes the best offense is a great defense, and you can’t hone a defense with brute strength alone. 

Knowledge was power, and before you had joined the Glaives, you’d only faced the smallest and weakest of demons. Your endless nights of studying the real things had saved your life on more than one occasion, and it’s that study that you continuously hone and practice with allies and enemies alike.

When you unsheathe your blade and stalk up, alone, to the small group of sabertooths (saberteeth?), you can feel the tension of the men behind you. They were going to observe, yes, but not without knowing you were safe and being prepared to jump in if even one of them thought you were in over your head. Allowing a small smile of anticipation to flutter across your lips, you take a deep breath and calm your mind at the exhale.

Then you throw your blade.

There were times that you and Nyx had competed to see how far and how quickly the two of you could throw and warp, mostly to see if it was possible to “fall” your way up. It was found out, unsurprisingly, that Nyx had the better throw and you had the better magical stamina, but gravity will always win. So on the battlefield, it was easier to throw up and diagonally if you, albeit briefly, wanted the higher ground on an enemy. What you did with those precious seconds of advantage was what mattered. 

The saberteeth never see it coming. One moment they’re running for you and the next you’ve just vanished, only to pin the closest to the ground with your blade. Each sabertooth pauses in confusion, tiny brains trying to piece together just _how_ you did that, and by the time their instincts tell them to jump back from this dangerous creature you’ve taken down one more.

Saberteeth hunted in packs, usually with one or two acting as aggressors while the others circle and trap their prey. With that circle broken, they prioritize jumping you from the rear. They’re used to their prey running, not falling onto their backs to catch their soft underbellies as they pounce. 

It’s this display that has Prompto literally jumping up and down and Ignis furiously taking mental notes as you proudly walk back, giving Gladio a raised eyebrow and a proud smirk before the blondie’s arm is snaked around your shoulders. 

“That was so cool!” he nearly screams into your ear.

“I’ve never thought to do that before,” Noctis joins in, eyes shining. “You literally used their momentum against them!”

Hearing Noctis praise you sends a weird emotion flitting through your chest, one you easily push aside as Prompto shakes you. “You’ve gotta teach me how to do that!”

“Uh, sure.”

“Teach you how to do what exactly, Prompto? I’ve seen you fall pretty easily at camp. Maybe she can teach you how to avoid cracking your tailbone when you do,” the Shield chuckles.

“Hey!”

“It was impressive to see your skills in action. You’ve definitely earned your Glaive position.” You flash Ignis a smile as he continues, “Shall we move onto the final hunt?”

So you do. It’s going to take some trial and error to find your place within the group, and a part of you hopes you’re not in enough battles to do so, but you’re feeling pretty good when you all return to Hammerhead that afternoon and Cindy announces the finished repairs on the motorcycle. Gladio and Ignis run off to collect the bounties while you, Prompto, and Noctis eagerly wait while Cindy fetches the thing.

The blonde gives out a whistle as the mechanic wheels out your shiny new ride. She even spray painted on a cool little skull and bones decal where the initial scratches used to be. “Ain’t she a beauty?” she coos as you walk a circle around it.

“It looks even better than when I first bought it,” you admit, running your fingers over the added compartment to the back, a perfect space to fit your backpack in. “Thank you so much, Cindy.”

“Ain’t a problem at all. You just remember to take her to me if she ever needs repairs.”

“You can definitely count on that.”

“That’s one badass looking motorcycle,” chimes in Gladio, Ignis on his heels. “I’m kind of jealous.”

“Cindy never fails to impress.” Handing over the needed gil, Ignis goes to give you the rest. Upon you insisting that you at least split it between you and the group, Noctis backs up his advisor with the assurance that if they ever need money, they can just go kill more things.

That, regrettably, gets a laugh out of you and ultimately giving them the win.


	4. And Suddenly Water Guns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all amazing, you know that? Almost 500 hits and 55 kudos! Not to mention all of your comments make my days! Thank you all so much!
> 
> A lot of this fic is impromptu. I play a bit of the game, take notes on events, then sit down to write through those bits, looking up scenes if need be. I have a base plot outlined, but the rest? I'm letting the characters lead me just as much as you guys :D

Unanimously, it’s agreed upon that the trip to Galdin Quay will start tomorrow, and for tonight everyone should once again get comfortable in the caravan. So that’s what everyone does, reclaiming outlets and tossing their jackets on any space they can. Ignis steps into the kitchen, the rest of the gang sit around the small tables, and you find yourself eyeing your phone suspiciously.

You have a few missed calls from Nyx and Libertus, with a text message a couple hours after the slew of missed communication from Nyx simply saying, “Call me.” Something was definitely up and alarm bells ring through your head as you scroll to Nyx’s name, shaking your head when Prompto tries to call you over and instead stepping to the edge of Hammerhead as the call connects.

“Hey.” That one word alone carries so much baggage you can feel your chest tighten. “Thanks for calling.”

“What’s wrong, Nyx?” You can’t hide the fear in your voice, the uncertainty clawing at your erratic heart. It becomes nigh unbearable when silence settles over the line, and when your friend speaks next, you suddenly wish he hadn’t.

“Crowe’s gone.”

The words are a bullet through your heart, your feet stumbling as you cross the street. You need away from Hammerhead, from any pricked ears and prying eyes. Already you can feel the tears threatening to spill, your lungs shrinking and throat closing. “What?”

“She was…found, today.”

The world sways, blurred by the tears forming crevices down your cheeks. Squatting down, as if making yourself smaller could minimize the pain, you shudder out, “No…”

Nyx isn’t finished with his bad news. “Libertus left.”

“Left?”

“The Glaives. He’s…” The sigh he exhales seems to have the weight of the whole world behind it. “He’s not taking the news well.”

“Obviously,” you quip, trying to bring some light into the conversation but instead choking on a sob. “Six…”

“We were given her things. I’ll…keep them safe.”

Wiping away the tears in a futile effort, you respond, “Right. All three of us need to go through them.”

Nyx remains quiet, a silent support as you cry. It’s only when your sobs start subsiding when he asks if you’ll be okay. You know he’s tired, you know he’s been hit harder than you have. So you tell him you will be, because you knew you’d have to be strong when you returned. Biding Nyx a good night and promising him you’d call every night until you return, you scroll to Libertus’ name.

No answer.

Night had officially fallen sometime during your weeping, something you don’t even notice until you finish sending Libertus a text and put your phone away. Close enough to Hammerhead’s lights to be safe, you stay where you are, curled up into yourself, not quite ready to go back, not quite ready to put on a mask of indifference. And so you sit for what feels like hours, staring into the darkness of the world.

“[Name]?” You don’t move to respond, not even bothering to flick your eyes to Noctis as he hesitantly settles down next to you. “Is…everything okay?”

Normally you’d joke about how obvious it was that you _weren’t_ okay, maybe some of your bitterness interlacing those words unintentionally, but you simply don’t have the energy for it. You don’t have the energy to feel that usual pang of envy and frustration that usually corresponded with Noctis, you don’t have the energy to pretend to get along with him. So instead you remain a statue, red and swollen eyes staring into the nothingness of your surroundings, arms hugged around your legs as if your limbs can protect you from the hurt.

Noctis shifts uncertainly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You blink, bringing your knees in closer. A sniff is his only response.

Everyone knows you’ve been crying. Gladio was the first to notice something was off, having kept his eye on you when you initially stepped aside to call Nyx. A small whisper to Ignis and the chef took over, body language being his expertise. When Prompto got to his feet to fetch you for dinner, both the bodyguard and the advisor stopped him, thus alerting Noctis, the last of the bunch, to your plight. All agreed to give you space, but as night fell and you remained crouched by the road, they knew it’d be too dangerous to leave you alone like that, Glaive or not.

It was Noctis who volunteered to check on you. It wasn’t out of some obligation, seeing as how you would be under his order when he eventually became king. No, it was just to reach out to you. Your coldness last night was something he kept thinking about, even more so when you refused to act too casual around anyone. You seemed to hold the gang at a careful arm’s length away, yet he understood why. Almost immediately you had stated your displeasure at leaving Insomnia, and he had to agree with you when you mentioned your presence seemed unneeded. There was a guilt there, a guilt making him feel responsible for your absence from the Crown City, and so he felt it was his responsibility to help you at a time of need.

When you don’t respond to any of his promptings, Noctis settles down to wait it out. He took it as a sign when you didn’t push him away, a sign that meant you appreciated his company. So he remains a constant by your side as you struggle with your grief, unaware of the inner demons you’re suddenly confronted with as he continues to sit there.

His presence, no matter how comforting he thinks he’s being, has you in another fit of tired confusion. Within the haze of Crowe’s death, you’re aware of him just…sitting there. Far enough away to not invade your personal bubble but close enough to feel his presence nonetheless. He doesn’t even take out his phone, instead opting to sit there quietly. Waiting. Waiting for you to move, that you’re ready to start life again, and you have absolutely no idea how to process this behavior.

The Crown Prince of Lucis was sitting next to a stranger he’s known for only a day, offering support over something that wasn’t even his fault. That’s not something strangers did, prince or not. No, that’s only what good friends do for each other, yet you know from his quiet, patient demeanor that he’s not doing this expecting something in return. He’s sitting next to you because he thinks that’s what you need. Because that’s what good people do for others. 

You’re not sure how to take that.

Once that poisonous emotion started festering within you about Regis, it started extending its claws to Noctis. Regis had disowned you, pushed you away from any sort of family you could have had. He was the reason you had this life, and Noctis was the embodiment of all that had been kept from you. While you were tutored at home and traveled Lucis to hone your fighting skills, Noctis had the freedom to go to school, make friends, have what you deemed a _normal life_. Sure, he had other, more princely duties, but he was also given the chance to be a normal, growing teenager.

For years you had resented him for that reason alone. He had the freedom of opportunities while you had been stripped of them since before you could remember. You hadn’t even truly known what friendship was until you had met the trio from Galahd. Noctis had everything you ever wanted, whether you admitted it or not.

Yet here he is, sitting next to you because that’s just the kind of guy he is. His act of kindness takes the envy you’d had for him and tames it, molding it into something new. What that something is will elude you for a time, but it’s enough to make you realize – admit – that you’ve always been petty. That this man waiting out the night beside you doesn’t deserve that unbridled venom.

So when you finally unlatch your grip and let yourself unfurl, you allow your eyes to rest on his. Beautiful blues waver with uncertainty and worry. Throwing him a small smile, your next words hold the same sincerity his actions have. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Somehow you know that isn’t a hollow statement. Noct shifts, eyes breaking from yours guiltily as he stifles a yawn.

Rising slowly to your feet, you ignore the ache the movement brings. Holding a hand out, you say quietly, “I’m ready to go back now.”

~*~*~

Ignis lets you and Noctis sleep in that morning, bribing you both with the scent of food when the sun’s reached its peak. Emerald eyes train on you, silent questions dancing in those hues. When you groggily thank him and stand up, running fingers through your hair and flashing him an appreciative smile, he nods to himself and turns to the task of rousing the prince.

Grabbing the plate resting on the kitchen counter, you don’t bother grabbing your things as you step outside, yawning wide and settling down at the closest table. You spy Prompto over at the Regalia, stuffing something into the trunk with Cindy chatting next to him. Gladio’s nonexistent, but as Noctis steps out yawning, you make sure to turn and give him a smile. “Morning.”

“Ugh, morning,” he drawls, plopping into the seat next to you.

Ignis sets the prince’s plate in front of him. “It’s actually afternoon.”

“I could sleep all day.”

It still makes you nervous, being around Noctis. Nobody could know of your blood ties to the Caelum line, least of all the black haired man next to you, but knowing your prince and brother wasn’t some entitled royal snob set you at ease. You couldn’t let your guard down, but you felt safe lowering it just a tad.

“We’re going to Galdin Quay today, correct?” you ask, tilting your head as you see Prompto turn and wave. You wave back.

“Now that your motorcycle is back in one piece, yes, that was the plan,” responds Ignis, narrowed eyes watching the blonde as he slams the trunk closed with a wide smile.

“Have you ever been?” comes Noct in between bites of his brunch.

“No,” you admit. “Though I’m excited to see the ocean.” You’d packed some swimwear, just in case you found some time to take a dip at the beach. Absently you wonder if you should change into it before you leave and just throw your clothes on over it, but you’re honestly not even sure when the marriage is set to happen and if you had delayed the group by wrecking your ride.

“Dudes!” Sliding into the conversation as gracefully as an armadillo, Prompto seems to read your mind. “You guys ready for the beach?!”

“Hell yeah!” you instantly respond, sharing grins with the photographer.

“Good to see our Glaive’s okay.” Stepping into the small circle that had been created, Gladio crosses his arms. “You had us worried last night.”

You miss the way Ignis shoots Gladio a look and how Noctis’ gaze is instantly on you as you drop your eyes and stare intently at your half eaten food. “Yeah, well,” you start, tapping your fork against the plate, “it’s not always sunshine and roses.”

“Hopefully,” comes Ignis, tone light, “the ocean will cheer you up.”

“Oh dude, it’s going to be _awesome._ ” Prompto’s nearly buzzing with excitement, and just like that, the tension bleeds out and you’re soon standing by your shiny motorcycle realizing that your helmet was ruined in the crash.

“Shit,” you mutter, giving Cindy a strained look. 

She laughs at your expression before handing you a brand new helmet. “On the house,” she tells you when you ask. Thanking her profusely, you stuff your head into the thing and flick the visor down, smiling as the blaring sun is toned down a few shades.

It feels wonderful to not be squished between two fully grown men. Rolling out behind the Regalia, you keep a safe distance behind as you all make tracks to the rather fancy resort. You make good time, but due to your and Noctis’ late morning, the sky is starting to be painted in oranges and reds by the time you all make it.

There are still hours before nightfall, and you can’t help but quirk a smile as Noctis runs straight for the pier instead of heeding Ignis’ suggestion to check out the ferries and ticket prices. Watching his friend casually go off in the opposite direction of the resort, Prompto bumps his fist against your arm.

“Sooooo,” he drawls, thrusting a thumb at the car, “Cindy gave me something, and…” Gesturing for you to follow, you’re more than beyond curious as the blonde pops the trunk and, like he’s showing you smuggled goods, looks around guiltily to make sure Ignis and Gladio aren’t in the vicinity before unzipping a pack and letting you take a peek.

Suddenly you’re very glad you decided to slip into your swimwear earlier. “Oh hell yeah.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he attempts to chuckle before choking as you throw your jacket on your motorcycle and start pulling your shirt over your head.

“Grab the pack and let’s try to fill those suckers up without drawing attention.” Shimmying out of your pants, you look up and find a laugh bubbling in your chest at the sight of Prompto turned away, cheeks a deep crimson. “Really? I wouldn’t just strip in front of you! I came prepared.”

“Oh, really? Well, I didn’t wanna be rude. Y’know…” The awkward dork turns only to instantly flick his eyes away, clearing his throat. “Pack. Right.”

Tilting your head as he almost drops the thing, you reach out. “Let me. You still need to get properly dressed.”

“Right. You’re right.”

Flashing the man an endearing look, you casually sling the pack over your shoulder and meander over to the water, enjoying the feel of sand between your toes and the cool breeze against your skin. Setting the bag down and grabbing the first water gun, you do your best to keep your body between it and the other guys as you wade far enough to submerge it. Repeating this process with the next gun, you’re screwing the top tight when Prompto finally joins you.

It’s your turn to avoid ogling. For a city boy, and a norm at that, you didn’t expect the blonde to have, well, obvious muscle. You can’t help it when your eyes do a quick scan, but it’s enough of a pause to make Prompto self conscious. Fighting down the blush and grabbing the first gun off the sand, he tilts his head at the pier. “Ready?”

A mischievous grin spreads across your lips. “Hell yeah. Too bad there aren’t any water snipers. Do you wanna be the distraction, or me?”

After a quick chat, the plan is set and you start parading your way down the water’s edge, slipping farther into the water the closer you get. “Hey guys!” you call, waving your free arm to grab their attention. You even hop a few times for good measure. “Look at this!” Holding up the water gun, you feel excitement rush through you at the way Noctis takes an instinctual step back and Gladio facepalms.

Ignis stays stoic as ever, crossing his arms as he asks, “Where did you get that?”

“Don’t you dare!” comes Noctis, fishing completely forgotten as he stares daggers at you.

“Aw, what?” you taunt, hoisting the gun up and pointing it at him. “Afraid of the water?”

“I’m not in my trunks!”

A snort wrenches its way out as you watch Gladio silently slip his jacket off in preparation. Right on time, you think, as Prompto points his gun, yells “Surprise!” and nails Gladio right in the face. Now the boys are trapped on the pier, Prompto blocking the only dry escape as you take aim and shoot, hitting your mark as Noctis bends over from the impact, shirt completely soaked. Glancing up with fire in his eyes, you watch in surprise as he launches himself off the pier and makes a beeline for you. 

Stumbling back, you continue to fire water at him as you nearly trip a few times in your hastened backward escape. It’s not until he’s only an arm length’s away do you decide to turn your back and bolt, hitting the sand and daring a look over your shoulder. You nearly die of laughter at what you see.

Sand is tough to run on. It likes to move and shift, making it great for stamina practice but not much else. So when Noctis breaks free of the water and goes to give chase, a foot easily slips and down he goes, face-planting right there on the beach. Since he’s dripping wet, no thanks to you, he’s no longer a human but a sand monster when he rises. Your hysterical laughing gives him the perfect opportunity, allowing him to close the distance, yoink the water gun from your grip, and spray you right in the face.

Half coughing and half laughing the water out of your mouth, you weakly reach for the gun but find Noctis has already put steps between you and him. “No way. This is mine now!” He shoots you one last time before turning and spraying an approaching Ignis.

Ignis, of course, doesn’t see this betrayal from Noctis. Already dripping from Prompto’s earlier attack (who is now running for his life from Gladio), he stops dead in his tracks as he’s shot. “Really?”

“All is fair in love and war,” comes the sand monster with a grin.

You’re already sneaking your way to the pack you left behind when Noctis fires again and you reach it without any interference. Quickly loading up the last two guns, you run over and shout, “Ignis!” before tossing him one. With a wink and a quickly shouted, “Revenge!” you dart off to help Prompto.

The blonde whoops as you come speeding up and get the jump on Gladio, hitting him right in the rear. Spinning around and glaring at you, you see the smirk on the Shield’s lips before he crosses his arms. “Two against one?”

“Aren’t you Noctis’ bodyguard?” you shoot back, Prompto stepping up next to you with his gun raised. “This should be nothing!”

Body tense, you know Gladio’s looking for a weakness to exploit. He finds it when Prompto shifts. Taking that split second when the shutterbug’s balance isn’t centered, Gladio grabs Prompto’s arm when he jerks back and loses his balance. Stealing the gun and letting his friend finish his fall, he pays back the favor from earlier by spraying Prompto in the face not once, but twice. Then he spins to you.

You’re ready, gun already firing as you dive out of the way. Quickly finding your feet, you’re shocked at the speed Gladio exhibits as he nails you in the arm. Reciprocating, you bounce back a couple steps, trying to lure the Shield away from your downed comrade. It works, Gladio no longer seeing the blonde as a danger as he follows after you. Combat training seems to kick in for the both of you as you shoot and dodge, side stepping and falling into a dance as you both attack and defend.

What he doesn’t know is how you’ve been luring him over to the other two with guns. So when Noctis sees his friend battling you and completely open, he takes his shot. Ignis in turn gets his hit on Noctis, and you turn your attention to the royal advisor and take advantage of his opening. 

Suddenly you’re all at a standoff, guns pointed to create a circle of death. It’ll only take one person pulling that trigger for everyone to get soaked. Four pairs of eyes flick back and forth for any sign of movement or opening, and eventually, Ignis breaks the tense silence. “Why don’t we all come to a compromise?”

“A cease fire, you mean?” clarifies Noctis, who is regretfully more person than sand now.

“I’ll set my gun down when you all do,” says Gladio, eyes not missing a single intake of breath being made.

“Agreed,” you say. “Count of three?”

Everyone nods.

“One,” you start, lowering yourself slowly to the ground. “Two…” Was anyone suspected of betraying this ceasefire? You can’t be sure, but everyone else is following your lead. “Three.”

Four guns drop to the sand, and a collective sigh of relief is shared.

“I’m soaked.” Shaking his hair out and abandoning his jacket, you watch as Noctis pulls his shirt away from his torso, a wet squelching sound greeting your ears as he does.

“Indeed.” Pulling off his gloves with a bit of difficulty, Ignis follows Noctis’ lead and sheds his jacket. “Should I assume correctly that we should change into our swimwear for the rest of the day?”

“Probably,” comes Prompto. “Damn are you guys impressive. It was like watching those western movies! That got _intense!_ ”

Running fingers through your hair, you laugh. “You did a great job with a two versus one situation, Gladiolus.”

“I wasn’t about to let you two runts beat me,” comes his retort.

“Runts?” both you and Prompto scoff at once.

“I’m going to go get changed.” Leaving the circle, Noctis starts making his way to the Regalia, Ignis on his heels.

“Wait up!” And there goes Gladio, leaving you and Prompto to high five each other.

“That was executed brilliantly!” you praise him, collecting the guns and noting how low each one is on ammo. 

Relieving half of the load, Prompto grins. “I’ve always wanted to go to a beach.”

“Well, you got your wish!” Quickly retrieving the pack that had hid the guns, you sling it over your shoulder. “I have a feeling we’re going to crash in that caravan tonight.”

“I honestly wouldn’t mind camping. It’s nice here.”

“Is there a camp spot nearby?”

The blonde shrugs. “We could go find out real quick.”

Glancing around and spotting a small climb for higher ground, you tell Prompto to wait as you rush to it. By the time the rest of the gang is changed into the proper clothing for a day at the beach, you’ve found a very close campsite and make to inform the others. 

“It’s still right by the beach,” you say with a smile. “So we can keep splashing to our hearts’ content until night hits!”

Ignis and Gladio trade a glance, Noctis giving you a very leveled look before sighing and agreeing. The only rule is that the water guns are _not_ to be fired inside or into the campground. You help the boys out toting the camping material from the car, but the majority of the equipment is tucked away in Noctis’ handy magical armory. Contrary to popular belief, anything can be “tagged” and filed away magically. The ability isn’t restricted to just weapons, but since royalty has no real reason to tag day to day items and Glaives are only limited to a handful of tags due to their limited magic, it’s usually combat equipment that end up getting that privilege.

Once the fire’s going and everything is set to Gladio’s standards, Ignis sets to work making dinner. You’re off to the side pretending not to be eyeing him up (or any of the guys, really. Minus Noctis. That’d just be weird). Gladiolus never left much to the imagination, considering he seemed to refuse to wear a shirt, but he is definitely _built_. Prompto and Ignis, on the other hand, are more on the lean but muscular side. Especially Ignis. Being the second tallest of the guys, his height coupled with his slim build has you raising an eyebrow and pressing your lips together to prevent your bottom lip from being bit.

If Ignis can feel your eyes on him, he doesn’t show any sign of it. Instead he goes about his work, firing up the burner stove and lying strips of meat (courtesy of your hunts yesterday) down in preparation for the skewers. Determining it’s weird as hell to be loitering slightly behind the pitched tent (no, you were _not_ trying to hide) you step up to Gladio, who’s busy hanging up the soaked clothes to dry.

Since he towers you in height, you make it your duty to clip the clothespins in place so Gladio doesn’t have to struggle with them. It’s quick work, and soon you find yourself slouched down in a chair as Noctis and Prompto fight it out in their phone app. Pointedly trying to ignore the way the fire makes the still drying bodies of Prompto and Ignis shine, you decide now is a good time as any to call Nyx and let him know you’re still okay.

“So where have you made it to?” he asks. You can hear the exhaustion in his voice, but you humor him, knowing he needs a distraction.

“Just made it to Galdin Quay today,” you say with a smile.

“Oh?” He can hear the happiness in your voice. “Did something interesting happen?”

“Just a water gun fight.”

You can just see his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “What?”

“Yep. The prince’s best friend managed to nab some, and we had an all out war.” Prompto glances over at you with a thumbs up, one you reciprocate. “It ended in a stalemate.”

Talking for a few more minutes, you manage to get a chuckle out of Nyx before biding him goodnight. Once more you try reaching Libertus, and once more there’s no answer. Setting your phone down next to your chair, Noctis takes that as a sign that you’re available to talk.

“Who are you always calling?” Glancing up, he makes sure you know that question is directed at you before returning his attention back to King’s Knight.

For a few moments you debate your answer. “Someone that’s like a brother to me. He’s a fellow Glaive.”

“A brother, huh?” butts in Gladio, raising an eyebrow at you. “Sure.”

“It’s true!” you defend. “He’s twelve years older than me!”

“Age is just a number when it comes to love.” 

“Oh stop it!” you huff, finding his grin and flashing your own right back.


	5. It Has Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60 kudos and over 600 hits. You're all amazing, you know that? Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!
> 
> I haven't been feeling all that great this week, and with work piling up with Easter, I've barely had any time to write anything. But! I get a 5 day weekend starting on Easter, so! Hopefully I can get some writing done, if The Alliance Alive doesn't distract too much! :D
> 
> I kinda just fly over Ardyn's appearance in this one. I couldn't find any good way to change the scene from how it happens in the game, so, I just figured it'd be better to just summarize instead of writing it all out. Sorry if it feels a bit awkward, I think I do better summarizing things in later chapters.

So, there was a tent.

It’s a sentence that’s suddenly become your mantra when Noctis retires to his bedroll and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that there’s only a tent. Singular. Meaning there was no other, miraculous second tent that you could crawl into for the night.

You were expected to sleep with four grown men. In their swim trunks.

Okay granted, Prompto was forced to get dressed out of his since it was soaking wet, following your lead in throwing on some spare clothes. That still left the other three, seeming very content to stay in their dry trunks in the nice weather. Noctis was a special case, in that you didn’t care what he was wearing so much as how close you were to be to him. The others had one or both of those issues checked off on your Officially Uncomfortable list and you didn’t quite know how to handle the situation.

Like how you find your eyes lingering on Ignis’ arms as he hands you a rolled up sleeping bag and a pillow. It’s not until he starts speaking that you’re able to tear your sinful gaze to his emeralds. You swear you see a glint of amusement in them, making your face heat up since you now suspect that he knows how sinful you’re trying not to be.

“I took it upon myself to buy you a sleeping bag. Hopefully it’s to your standards.”

Blinking out of his all-knowing look, you glance down at the bedding in your arms. “Ignis, you didn’t have to do this. How much?”

“Nothing. Consider them a gift.”

“But, I couldn’t possibly-You’ve already gone out of your way to help me back at Hammerhead.”

“Wait.” Turning your head at his voice, you find Prompto frozen half in and half out of the tent. “[Name]’s sleeping… _with us?_ ”

“You’re not going to make her sleep out on the rocks alone, are you?” comes Gladio, crossing his arms with a mischievous smile as the blonde’s cheeks start burning.

“N-No! Just, I mean, there’s not going to be much room, and-Dude, _she’s a girl!_ ”

“I can see that.”

“We’ll do our best to accommodate you.” As fluid as a river, Ignis cuts into the squabbling, stealing your and Prompto’s attention. “We’ll do our best to give you room.”

“No, that’s not…” Sure, it’d be awkward as hell lying close to one of these guys, but the tent wasn’t all that big and you’d definitely feel guilty if they squished together just to give you a couple inches more of space. “Get comfortable. I’ll settle myself on the edge, so don’t worry about me.”

“If you’re certain.”

You give a nod to the advisor and hesitantly step past Prompto who is still standing prone at the entrance. After a quick glance you find your spot at the edge and wiggle into your sleeping bag, heaving a big yawn as your head hits the pillow.

You’ve slept beside men before, while out on Glaive missions. They were more cat naps than anything though, since a soldier always had to be prepared for anything. So knowing you were to try for a full night’s sleep next to three attractive men _and your brother_ , well, you couldn’t blame a girl for being nervous. You’re hyper aware of every movement that comes from the guys, and while you’re far from comfortable, you do manage to fall into a light, fitful sleep.

Crowe visits in your dreams, sarcastic smiles and one armed hugs devolving into her lying cold and stiff on a metallic table. Whitened eyes stare at you, into you, into nothing. Her lips, blue as ice, move like she’s trying to speak or gulp in air, but only you know how futile that is. Pale fingers twitch under the thin sheet that covers her, and it’s not until she manages a strangled cry that you jolt awake, tears wetting your cheeks and sobs strangling in your throat. Not trusting your legs, you crawl hurriedly out of the tent and into the crisp morning air, retreating to the edge of the campsite to let the tears fall freely.

Weeps empty and emotionally exhausted, you sit and stare at the first hints of the sun transforming the night into twilight. Turning your head slightly as you hear the tent’s flap shift, you instinctually hug yourself and take in a deep breath. Whether you’re ready or not, it’s time to face the day.

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder as an even gentler voice asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Wiping at your face and plastering on a smile, you turn to Ignis. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Gladio didn’t snore too loud, did he?” inquires the advisor, flashing you a small smile as your eyes glitter briefly. 

“My snores are heavenly,” retorts the Shield, emerging into the morning and stretching.

“Some would disagree.” Glancing at you, Ignis tilts his head ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t deny some extra help preparing breakfast, if you’re up for it.” 

“That… That sounds good.” Rising to your feet, you catch Gladio’s eyes. Tipping him a nod, you follow Iggy across the campsite to the impromptu kitchen.

“Enjoy your run,” comments the chef absentmindedly as Gladio hops off the rune etched rock. 

Throwing up a hand in acknowledgement, the bodyguard takes off at a light jog to the beach.

“I’ve never understood morning workouts,” you find yourself commenting, watching as Ignis sets a water filled pot on the oven and ignites the burner. “The last thing I want to be is sweaty first thing in the morning. Or awake in general, I suppose.”

“One Noct is bad enough.”

“Don’t judge us just because we can’t understand the appeal of mornings.” Flashing a smile, you fetch the bag of rice on Ignis’ request as he waits for the water to boil. “In my eyes, you morning people are the weird ones. Plus, when you’re forced to wake up early everyday because of work, sleeping in becomes rare and a much wanted leisure.”

Being the sous-chef for the morning helps to be a wonderful distraction. Ignis remains quiet for the most part, listening as you chat idly. Once the rice is ready to be molded, silence settles over the camp once again. A comfortable silence, you realize with a start. It hadn’t escaped from your initial impression of the advisor, but Ignis had a type of calm about him. Cool and composed, like he was in control at all times, but consciously open to any and all interaction he’s given. Helping him in the kitchen was a plan on his part to calm you down, get your mind off of your nightmare, and it was working. By the time Gladio returns, breakfast is done, and Ignis is disappearing into the tent to wake up the two slumbering members, you’re relaxed and ready to face the day.

Noctis looks absolutely betrayed when he eventually emerges and finds you sitting by the smoking ashes of the fire, a chipper “Hello” thrown his way. Grumbling about already being converted, he slouches into the nearest chair and yawns so widely you fear his jaw will unhinge. Prompto, on the other hand, seems to bounce, albeit a little groggily, out of the tent and give his friend an encouraging pat. Gladio disappears into the tent to towel off the sweat he’d accumulated while Ignis passes out the breakfast.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” inquires the now less-smelly Shield, taking a hearty bite of his rice ball.

Giving Noctis a pointed look, Ignis responds for him. “Procuring tickets to Altissia.”

“The road trip’s almost over,” laments the blonde, adding a sigh as he leans back. “We should totally do this again sometime.”

“We’re leaving the roads behind, but think of Altissia! No cars but instead boats, and wonderful food, and a wedding!” Glancing over at Noctis, you debate asking your next question but decide to just go for it. “I know the wedding is arranged, but… Do you actually have feelings for Lady Lunafreya, Noctis?”

He nearly chokes on his food. “I-What?”

“Most arranged marriages are for political reasons, ignoring the whole love aspect entirely. So, I was just wondering.”

“Lady Lunafreya and His Highness have a history,” responds Ignis, patting Noctis on the back as he coughs.

Prompto takes the opportunity to slide in with some teasing. “Yeah, they even have a book they pass back and forth to each other, filled front to back with mushy love letters and poems.”

“How romantic.” Of course, there’s Gladio, never passing up an opportunity to ruffle Noctis’ feathers.

“Will you two shut up?” is the first thing Noctis throws when he’s won his life back from the sticky rice. “It’s not like that!”

You can’t help it. He set himself up. “So there’s no love there at all, then?” 

Red as a tomato, Noctis stiffly stands up and just walks away, biting angrily into the rice ball he takes with him. The Trio of Teases air-five behind his back while Ignis throws a “Don’t wander too far, Noct,” to the retreating back of the prince.

“He is very easy to tease,” you comment to no one in particular as you finish your breakfast and set about helping Ignis clean up.

“That’s what makes it so fun,” chuckles Gladio, already compacting the fold-up chairs and throwing them over his shoulder.

“Clothes are all dry!” observes Prompto as he takes down the clothes line.

“Wonderful,” comes Ignis.

“I would’ve been surprised if they weren’t,” you say, stacking the kitchen utensils in a pile. “It’s hot as hell out here.”

It’s at this point when Noctis returns. As the boys get dressed, you scurry over to Gladio by the Regalia, grabbing your Glaive outfit off your motorcycle and getting permission to just change in the back of the car. Instantly feeling the temperature rise when you exit, you stuff your clothes in your bag and start walking back only to meet the gang on their way to you, the rest of the camp tucked securely away in Noctis’ magical armory.

Honestly, at this point you should know better than to expect a simple walk with no distractions. Half way to the Galdin Quay resort, Noctis spots a cat and starts talking to it, taking it upon himself to feed it with one of the fish he caught yesterday. You nearly laugh out loud when the kitty spazzes and nearly has a heart attack when offered raw fish, and to no one’s surprise he promises to return with it cooked. Sneaking in a few pets of your own in, you promise to return with more loves and cuddles before catching up to the group.

In a way, you kind of wish you’d stayed with the cat.

The guy who had called himself “a man of no consequence” certainly had a way of leaving an impression. His look alone was eccentric, purple-ish hair, brown eyes that bordered on yellow, and you don’t even know what was going on with his top and how he could live having that many layers in this heat. Everyone is suddenly on edge, though with more steps the man takes away from you, the more tension bleeds away until only a bad taste on the tongue remains. The way his eyes had rested on you made your skin crawl. He’d looked at you like he knew everything, right down to every dirty little secret. The way he held himself exuded confidence and slight arrogance, and the way he talked? You knew very well some people enjoyed being cryptic and getting under people’s skin, but he seemed to be on a whole other level entirely.

After a few moments of pondering this odd stranger, you follow the group’s lead by shrugging away the experience and continuing on.

“They have _massages_ here,” Prompto nearly squeals during his exploration. “I want a cute girl to give me one.”

“I only see guys,” responds Gladio with a grin.

“A guy can dream.”

This place was _expensive_. Everything on the menu cost thousands of gil, not to mention the price for one room overnight. Eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you see the price tag and you retreat from the hotel part of the resort like it’s on fire. Noctis makes good on his promise to the cat, and not likened to be shown up, you give the feline some excellent attention while the boys check out the ferry.

They return with a bag of mixed emotions.

“The ferry is out of service,” Ignis starts, hiding a smile when he sees the cat lying on your lap, purring like a motor.

“And princey here decided to be someone’s errand boy.” That’s Gladio, sounding a bit irritated.

“It gets us tickets though.” Oh Prompto, the ever positive sunshine.

“Reporters are scary,” is all Noctis has to say on the matter before rounding everyone up and setting out.

That’s how you find yourself crossing a natural bridge over the road and into the lair of a beast. Well, not quite a lair since it was very open to the sun and wind, but that huge ass bird has all five of you stopping dead in your tracks.

“Oh. Em. Gee.” That’s Prompto, anxiety hitting the roof and beyond.

You and Gladio are suddenly in an intense staring contest. As Prince Noctis’ personal Shield, it was his duty to take point. However, as a Kingsglaive and the King’s elite of the elite, your experience alone should have you leading the group instead. It’s impressive how the two of you can have an extensive, and rather heated, conversation with just your eyes.

Noctis, ignoring your little dominance fight, just parades right in. This forces you to quickly consent, tilting your head and breaking eye contact to watch in fascinated horror at how stupidly brave the prince was being. Resting a hand on Prompto’s arm, you raise a finger to your lips and flash a warm smile as Gladio starts a slow and cautious pace, hissing at the prince to _“stop in his tracks or so fucking help me.”_ Taking it upon yourself to stand between Noctis and the bird, this gives you the privilege of getting a more up close and personal look at the creature.

You instantly know you could have gone your whole life without it.

The thing has _teeth_. Not a normal, jaggedless beak like any other bird, oh no. It had to have _giant fucking teeth_. What did this thing even eat? Catoblepas? Suppressing the shudder _that_ particular thought evokes, Prompto’s continuous squeaks of fear does nobody any favors. When you’re far enough away from the bird to form a circle around the royal, you heave a quiet sigh of relief when Noctis retrieves the ore Dino requested and you all turn on your heels to make for the exit.

But of course it’s when you’re halfway to safety when the bird decides give you all a heart attack by _waking up_. None of you gave it permission to do that, but with teeth like those, you’re not surprised it’s a damn rebel. Prompto’s anxiety attack makes you back up to him, capturing his wrist in a vice grip while the bird stretches out not one, but _two sets of wings_. What did it even do with the second pair on its head, fan itself when it got too hot?

Then it releases a roar no bird should ever make before taking off, nearly punting Noctis off the cliff when its humongous talons as it sweeps past.

“Off it goes,” comes the strained voice of Ignis, hand hovering inches from his prince’s back. Gladio, who had grabbed Noctis by the arm when the talon whizzed by, releases his friend with an apologetic look. You do the same to Prompto, only just now realizing how tightly you had been holding on to him.

“We made it out alive!” Noctis needs to put on a party hat and pop some streamers because you were all walking away from that horrifying and nightmarish experience in one piece!

Shaking like a leaf but still high on adrenaline, you follow the gang back to your vehicles and deliver the ore safe and sound to Dino. With plenty of the day to spare, and Noctis insistent on experiencing the luxurious rooms of the resort, you run around completing hunts until you can pay that ridiculous sum. Thankfully the room is spacious and has multiple beds, and before long you find yourself all playing cards as the sun dips below the horizon. Something you can watch, courtesy of the brilliant view the glass wall provides.

“I wish I had thought about taking a picture of that thing,” laments Prompto after he loses at Old Maid for the third time in a row.

“Considering how that bird could have easily swallowed all five of us whole, I don’t blame you for forgetting,” you respond, reshuffling the cards and passing out new hands. “Also, how do you have such bad luck at this game?”

“It’s a talent,” comes the smooth reply.

“Not a very handy one,” interjects Gladio, slapping a pair of cards on the table once everyone’s been dealt.

“It’s still impressive in its own right,” says Ignis with a small smile, following Gladio’s lead. “Who starts?”

“The only royal in the room, obviously,” comes Noctis, the comment making you press your lips together to hide a snort. In a way, though, he was right. Considering your upbringing, you were far from being a royal. While he wasn’t technically the only one in the room with royal blood, he was the only one that had been raised to rule a whole kingdom. 

And for once in your life, that thought doesn’t bother you as much as it used to.

Stealing the bathroom to take a much needed shower, you decide to call Nyx for your nightly check in when you’re toweled off and dressed in your sleepwear. When he doesn’t answer, you check the time and call again, slight panic taking root in your gut.

Taking a deep breath and fighting back your worry when the call goes once more into voicemail, you send a quick text and do your best to act natural as you take advantage of the laundry machines down the hall. Going through the motions, you’re not really _there_ as you desperately try to rationalize this sudden fear. Nyx was okay. You were just paranoid after the loss of Crowe. If your fellow Glaive has shown you anything through the years, it’s that he can run right through death’s door and walk out like he was just paying an old friend a visit.

Shoving down the dread building in your chest, you take your desperate thoughts and run with them.


	6. Dust to Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about my weird drop off planet Earth. I've recently had a VERY tumultuous week, and my life has been kinda flipped in weird ways. I won't get into specifics, but uploading may slow down since I'll be busy planning a move and figuring out where I'll be going life-wise. Writing has been slowed down as well, but I've been doing my best to at least get a couple hundred words down if nothing else. 
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for your comments and kudos. They make my day, truly! We've hit 80 kudos and I'm just so blown away!

It should have been like any other morning. Better than any other morning. There was a boat waiting to take you to Altissia, where Noctis would reunite with Lady Lunafreya and there’d be nothing but joy and celebration, free food and drink to go around. The signings would go over smoothly and you’d return home with stories to share with Nyx and Libertus. The ceasefire would be permanent and the war over.

It was to be an uncertain future, and not everyone would be happy, but it was a future nonetheless.

Instead, the stormy weather mirrors the atmosphere in the room perfectly. There’s a foreboding heavy in the room, one that digs into your skin and goads you into the waking world. Blinking back the grogginess and silently sitting up, your fist is unconsciously strangling your blanket as the silence registers. Gladiolus and Prompto are off in the corner, unusually quiet and despondent. Instantly awake, you take note of Noctis’ still slumbering form on the mattress next to yours as you slide out of the once comfortable bed and cross the room. Eyes lock on Gladio’s, but before you can even open your mouth he’s motioning for you to follow him out into the hall.

“What’s going on?” is the first thing blurted from your tongue when the door’s securely closed and you’re a good handful of feet away.

“Every radio station, newspaper, and even magazine is saying the same thing.”

Your eyes narrow when he doesn’t elaborate. “Saying _what,_ Gladiolus?”

Running a hand down his face, he seems to mentally and physically prepare himself for his next words. “They say Insomnia’s fallen.”

You wonder if you’ve just been hit by your motorcycle again, the way the air in your lungs disappear. “What?”

“Specs is checking out the rumors now.”

Stumbling against the far wall, you grip your arms tightly, preventing your hands from shaking. “They could be wrong,” you try to reason, though to whom you’re not sure. “Tensions are high. One rumor about something like this would definitely blow up.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope.” Reaching over to give a short pat on your shoulder, he leaves you to your tumultuous thoughts and heads back into the room.

Your first instinct is to get out into the fresh air, away from the walls that are suddenly pressing in, away from the dread gripping every corner of the building. Then the fire flares and it takes all your self control to not rush to Insomnia right then and there. You have _family_ there, dammit! The boys undoubtedly did too! Why were you five not already half way to the Crown City?

You’re about to track Ignis down like a bloodhound when he saves you the trouble, stepping into the hallway with a solemn air. The frown set deeply into his expression just stokes that fire in your chest, stokes that panic you are desperately fighting down. Instead of commenting on your determined expression he motions for you to follow as he steps into the room where Prince Noctis awaits, oblivious.

“It’s in all the papers,” the advisor ends up confirming when Noctis instantly catches on to his guarded expression.

You stand stiffly, reminding yourself to breathe and act like the Glaive you are when Prompto read out, “’Insomnia…falls?’”

It’s a relatable thing, watching Noctis’ shoulders tense and breathing hitch. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“I need you to calm down so I can explain,” Ignis tries, already trying to placate the rage and fear already building in his liege.

“I’m as calm as I’m gonna get!” retorts the prince, closing the distance between him and Ignis. Your eyes narrow with uneasiness, muscles tensing in response to Noctis’ sudden fury. The past few days has shown you many sides you hadn’t known or even bothered to consider your brother had, but this sloppily constrained rage reminds you too much of yourself.

“There was an attack.” Pausing as if to find his next words, Ignis continues slowly, “The imperial army has taken the Crown City.”

“’As treaty room temperatures flared, blasts lit the night sky,’” Gladio reads, titling the newspaper ever so slightly when the prince steps up next to him. “’When the smoke about the Citadel had cleared, the king was found…dead.’”

You forget to breathe.

Noctis does too. “No, wait, hold on…”

“We had no way of knowing.” There’s Ignis, taking a few steps away from the door.

“What? Knowing what?”

“That the signing was last night. That Insomnia—”

“But the wedding! Altissia!”

“Lies,” you hiss out, fighting back those tears, heart hurting so badly you fear it’ll stop.

Ignis doesn’t break his gaze from the prince. “I know, that was the plan. Yet the reports of the invasion are all the same. How could every headline in the kingdom be wrong?”

A simple answer: They weren’t. When that fact settles like a blanket of rocks, Noctis repeats your earlier statement in a strained mutter, incredulous eyes cast downward as feet drag to the nearest chair. Prompto, who has been silent throughout this whole exchange, speaks what you’re all thinking. “If only.”

“So let’s go,” you stress between gritted teeth, grip tight around the doorknob as you throw open the door. “We go back and see with our own damn eyes.”

Ignis catches you with a gentle but firm hand on your arm. “Might not be safe for us there.”

“So you’re all just going to sit here and wallow in uncertainty?” you scoff, shaking his arm off and rounding on the four when they remain silent. “I’m sure those Nifs aren’t going to just sit on their hands while they know the Prince of Lucis is still out there!” You have three sets of eyes on you yet you turn to the owner of the pair that’s missing. “Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, son of King Regis Lucis Caelum.” Your voice is deceptively calm, adopting a level of strength and poise that demands attention. Noctis, shaken by this sudden shift, finds himself staring at you with a mixture of fear and awe. “Are you just going to sit here without finding the truth for yourself?”

Silence once more settles, but it’s not you that breaks it. It’s Gladiolus. “Turn back?”

All eyes are now on Noctis as he looks at each one of you in turn before dropping his gaze. The moment that hesitant “Yeah,” leaves his lips, you’re out the door and halfway down the pier that connects Galdin Quay to the beach before the boys even take one step. It’s a calm fury, the type that clears your mind of anything but the task at hand. When you tell the gang you’re taking point and to stay a relative distance behind you in case anything were to happen, you don’t wait for a response as you rev your engine and roll onto the road.

The sky starts weeping at some point, though you’re never able to pinpoint exactly when it started. You should be thinking of what the death of Regis means for you when you direct the Regalia away from the city checkpoint and to a side road running parallel to the road, but that rage has you thinking of nothing but giving hell’s retribution to any Nif that dares cross your path. Tossing your helmet onto your bike’s seat and stalking forward, Gladio doesn’t fight you for the lead when you step up onto the metal structure and not think twice in engaging the Magitek standing guard.

If the gang had doubts about your Glaive title, they sure as shit don’t now. You’re a one woman army, not wasting any movement as each swing is a death strike, each warp positions you for the next kill, dropping those Magitek soldiers like the scrap metal they really are. In no time you’re making tracks up that hill and standing in pained witness of the destruction that is Insomnia.

There’s nothing but smoke. Yeah, there are buildings in the distance, you can still tell it is – _was_ – a city, but the smoke clogging the sky above it brings tears to your eyes.

_“As to ceasefire discussions between the two nations, all provisional terms have been suspended in light of recent developments.”_

You flick your eyes to Prompto’s phone as the news reporter continues.

_“Moreover, in the wake of the news of King Regis’ death, we’ve now received word that Crown Prince Noctis and the Oracle Lunafreya have also been pronounced dead.”_

“What?” you can’t help but burst out, startling Prompto and causing his finger to tap his screen, cutting out the radio.

Gladio turns quickly. “Keep it on!”

Prompto tries in his panic, but his quaking has his grip falter and his phone tumble to the ground. Reaching quickly for it, he physically recoils as Noctis screams, “Don’t bother!”

There’s a slight pang of pity before you’re fighting your phone out of your pocket and jamming your thumb on Nyx’s name. You barely even register the Nif airships passing overhead as you press your phone painfully to your ear. A strangled sob gets caught in your throat as it skips the normal rings to go straight into voicemail. Trying again doesn’t help, neither does the third attempt or the fourth. Fighting down the urge to chuck your useless phone into the water between you and the city, you try Libertus. Again. And Again.

It’s the same.

“Dammit!” you scream just as Noctis growls out, “What about _any_ of this makes sense?”

Numbly you’re aware of Noctis talking, but you honestly don’t have the energy to pay attention as you watch the raindrops pitter patter on your darkened phone screen. Suddenly you’re highly thankful it’s raining, never one to feel comfortable crying in front of others. Your world, a world you had recently found and swore to protect with everything you had, was crumbling right before your very eyes. Crowe was confirmed gone, and now the other two weren’t picking up. Hell, there wasn’t even a phone on the other end to receive your screams.

Ignis’ voices is like a bullet in the silence, a quiet you hadn’t even noticed had fallen. “What did the marshal…have to say?”

Marshal? As in Marshal of the Crownsguard, Cor Leonis? You fight the haze and despair threatening to drown your thoughts.

“Said he’d…be in Hammerhead,” is Noctis’ response.

Running a hand across your face, you turn to the prince as Gladio steps closer. “And the king?”

Noctis’ silence is louder than any word he could have spoken.

The death of King Regis registers differently for you than it does for the others. You’d never looked up to the guy, never cared one way or another for the father that had shunned you. His absence in the world left the Kingdom of Lucis shaken, and that was one thing you understood perfectly. His passing left the throne empty and cold, and with Noctis believed dead? Niflheim had gotten the result they wanted, and that thought burned.

Letting the Regalia lead, you’re somewhat surprised you don’t manage to drive your motorcycle into a ditch with how hard you’re muscles are shaking and how blurry your vision is insistent on remaining. Cindy’s waiting for you when you all roll up into Hammerhead, informing you all that Cid is expecting you five in the garage.

It’s a heavy walk there, and an even heavier atmosphere within.

You opt to lean against the garage’s opening. You don’t do well with prolonged depressed companions, especially since you have a bad way of handling your own grief. So instead you stay off to the side where it’s safe, absentmindedly turning your helmet over and over in your hands as Cid starts speaking. It’s not until Noctis mentions how his father was played for a fool when you still your motions.

“Don’t kid yourself,” comes the old man, grabbing a nearby wrench to occupy his hands. “Reggie wasn’t born yesterday. Lucis got dealt a losin’ hand, and your old man played it the best he could. He saw this comin’ a mile away, and he wasn’t going down without a fight.”

And how many did he take down with him? It’s a bitter thought you bite your tongue to avoid spitting out.

But then it hits you like a damn Nif airship.

_Regis saw this coming a mile away._ He sent you out, chasing after his son on a damn road trip, _to get you – both of you – out of the city._ Because he _saw_ the damn Nif betrayal coming and he wanted to keep _both_ of his children safe. 

Your helmets smacks the concrete as you retreat, stumbling over your feet as your sobs wrack your whole body. Regis had never once acknowledged your ties to him, never _once_ called you his daughter, but yet he decided to play all fatherly at the end and send you away? Nyx, Libertus, Crowe, they three fought for him – _died for him_ – but yet he thought it prudent to send you away? When you could have possibly saved the only friends and family you had ever truly known? 

You would rather have died beside your friends than be here in a life without them! Damn Regis, damn his sudden need to play the parent when it wasn’t necessary, damn this sudden swell of confusion because of it! Collapsing a ways behind the garage, you hug yourself tightly as you struggle to breathe.

What was the point of it all? Pushing you away, lying to the whole world about his only child, encouraging you to join the Glaives? If he had cared, why hadn’t he ever shown it? What stopped him from keeping you in the crib next to Noctis and raising you as his own? Why were you suddenly caring, why were you suddenly thinking back to all the times you’d shied away from any interaction that _he tried to initiate_? 

He didn’t care. He’d never cared. Right?

Right?

Or was it all just what you’d led yourself to believe?

Six, you don’t know anymore. No sane, caring parent throws one child away and keeps the other. But what if there was something more to it? What if there was actually a _reason_ for his actions?

It was too much. It was all too much.

The rain helps to drown out your cries, hiding your tears as they stream down your cheeks. You’re not sure how long you stay hunched in the mud, soaked to the bone and shivering from the grief and chill that had at some point settled deep into your bones. Tears have long since dried, but you’re exhausted, empty. Looking back, you know you would have stayed that way all day and night had Ignis not gone to retrieve you, coaxing you back to life and helping you to your shaky legs.

“Cindy has a bath ready for you,” he says quietly as you sniff and shift your weight from foot to foot, waiting for some feeling to return to your limbs. 

“Thank you,” is all you manage to breathe out as Ignis patiently matches your slow pace, close enough to offer assistance if need be but far enough away to keep you comfortable. 

Cindy takes one look at you and ushers you into the back of the garage where the small living area resides, taking you straight to the bathroom where a tub of steaming water awaits. “I’ve got a nice hot bath waitin’ for ya,” she says, gesturing to your clothes. “I’ll get these nice an’ squeaky clean for you in the mornin’, so don’t you worry none there.”

“Thanks, Cindy.” You manage a small smile as she hands you a towel and pats you on the back.

“What’re friends for, right?” is what she leaves you with, flashing you a smile in return as she closes the door.

The bath definitely helps. You’re filthy, covered in Magitek oil and grease, and it’s like mud is your new favorite lotion. Scrubbing your skin clean and drowning your hair in shampoo, you emerge from the water a new woman. Someone had gone through your bag at some point, leaving your pajamas lying outside the bathroom door. 

By the time you step out of the garage and make your way to the caravan, the clouds have closed and the sun has started dipping. Without a word Ignis hands you a mug of hot cocoa, nodding to the spare chair in the circle. Plopping down and wrapping your fingers tightly around the warm drink, you notice Noctis is the only one MIA, taking solace in the caravan as the others sit quietly outside. 

Gladio has his phone sitting on the small table, chocolate eyes searing a hole through it. You don’t bother asking who he couldn’t contact, knowing you yourself wouldn’t want to be asked right now. Instead, you plop your phone next to his and say, “Teach me how to play King’s Knight.”

Prompto instantly jumps at the chance, eager to push away the heavy atmosphere. Playing off of his strained cheer, you keep your voice light as he opens the newly downloaded app. Before long, Ignis and Gladio join in. While it may be one of the worst nights in your life, you can’t help but admit that it would have been nigh unbearable alone and that you owe this gang of misfits you’ve somehow pieced yourself into.


	7. No Rest for the Weary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next was originally planned to be one chapter, but it ended up getting WAY too long so it was split.
> 
> Remember how I promised you that magic is explained more later? :D It was great fun coming up with the rules and such since the game never really goes too in depth with it. Like, at all.
> 
> Also, we hit over 1000 hits and are a couple kudos away from 100! You guys are fantastic, thank you so much!!

It was a hard night for everyone. Some passed out instantly, only to feel like they’d only gotten a second of sleep the next morning. Others didn’t sleep at all, or drifted in and out of the dream world. Ignis Scientia was one of those that hadn’t managed a wink of rest, adopting his normal routine by dressing and leaving the caravan at the crack of dawn. 

There was a lot to think about, a lot to predict and prepare for. With Noctis shut down with grief, it was his job to pick up the broken pieces and figure out a way to glue them together in a recognizable manner. But where to start? There was the issue of the Kingdom of Lucis believing the royal family were all dead and what that meant for Noctis currently, the fact that him and the group were all now fugitives with morale dangerously low, it wasn’t out of the question that some in the Lucis government would be turncoats and what they would betray to the Empire… The list went on and on. Some were more prominent than others, but his thoughts kept returning to the odd fact of your presence within the group.

Initially he had written off your arrival as King Regis being overprotective, but in light of recent events he was now positive the King had sent you as backup. No matter how capable he and Gladiolus were, he couldn’t deny the fact that they’d never once ventured outside of the Crown City. You, on the other hand, had come face to face with all manner of Imperial enemies and walked away to tell the tale. The elite of the elite, a Kingsglaive who protected when all other measures failed. And yet, something was bothering him.

You’d been able to use magic on the way to that cliff overlooking Insomnia.

The Kingsglaive was different in that their leashes were longer, but their collars more spiked. It took a certain aptitude to handle the Crystals’ magic at the extent they were able, and this unusual ability made any possible traitor extremely dangerous. As such, their contract with the King was slightly different than the members of the Crownsguard. Crownsguard magic was overlooked by the Crystal, and so as long as the Crystal remained intact, the little magic they were able to manage would remain. Kingsglaive magic, on the other hand, was handled directly through the King. This allowed the King to nullify any magical contract instantly if any one of his Glaives turned traitor, and with the death of King Regis it stood to reason that all Glaives would thus lose their ability to harness said magic. Yet, there you were, taking out Magitek soldiers quickly and effectively by using the magical ability to warp.

The facts didn’t add up.

It could be possible that due to the sudden nullification of so many contracts, it didn’t happen instantly upon the King’s death. Or, perhaps due to the reason of the nullification, it took a while to take effect. Yet Ignis was positive that the King would never allow such loopholes like that to exist, especially if lives were on the line. It just simply didn’t make any sense.

He could always skip the theorizing and approach you directly, but he wasn’t sure how you’d respond. Perhaps you wouldn’t be any the wiser than he was, although he doubted that. Perhaps you’d become more guarded than you already were, losing that warmth and comfort you’d started showing and thus block Ignis from ever getting the truth from you. If you had a magic that powerful that wasn’t connected to the King directly then either King Regis knew and allowed you to operate, or you somehow took advantage of a dangerous opportunity given to you and kept it hidden. What your motives would be for that latter possibility, however, was concerning.

In the end, he decides to keep this specific worry to himself and simply observe. He didn’t believe you to be a danger to Noct, and body language speaks louder than any voice. Eventually you’d slip up and he’d slide right in to take that advantage. For now, he’d watch, wait, and think of an appropriate approach or three in the meantime.

As if his thoughts summon you, he watches as you quietly step down from the caravan’s steps and settle into the nearest chair, across from him. As the second one awake, he’s not surprised when you bring your legs up, yawn, rest your chin on your knees, and look like you’re about to pass right back out. There’s a glassy sheen to your eyes, a slump to your shoulders. Everyone had loved ones in Insomnia, and the lack of communication drove home how dangerous it was to hope. Yet you were a Glaive, and the chance of your friends coming out of that mess alive was slim to none.

It was their duty to stand and fight, to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. A Glaive who ran at the first glimpse of hardship didn’t deserve the title. The few Glaives Ignis had briefly met within the castle were proud, driven by a shared goal to take back their homes and limit, if not outright end, all the death and carnage they experienced. So every member that had been stationed in Insomnia had undoubtedly fought and, as you all had witnessed on that hill, most likely died in the line of duty.

What Ignis wasn’t privy to, however, was your internal turmoil that dove deeper than that. As a child you had grown up believing that you were born to be a Kingsglaive. Even when you were old enough to question that oddity, you reached that goal and remained fighting for the family you found there. With them gone, and your only home destroyed and overrun with imperials, what were you to do? Where were you to go? Of course you wanted to fight the Empire and end all the suffering they caused out of a greed for power, but what then? You were a princess in all but nothing. No one knew of your existence. Noctis was the Chosen King prophesized to save the world, not you. When the Kingdom was finally retaken and peace restored, well, where would you fit into that new picture if you never fit correctly in the old one?

It’s a lonely thought. Even if you remain with this ragtag team of Noctis’, you’d never truly be one of them. They’re a close knit group, strongly resembling how you and your Gallahd friends were, but unlike with them, your family secret actually means something. It’s a secret that would absolutely destroy any meaningful bonds you could make, because on one hand you’d be flat out _lying_ to the only blood relative you have left, a relative that actually turned out to be a pretty good guy, and his three closest friends. On the other hand, if they ever _did_ learn your secret, any interactions with them would then be different. You wouldn’t be an equal in the eyes of the three friends anymore. You’d be a royal, above everyone but Noctis, and they’d treat you as such because that’s what they’ve been trained to do. Even if Gladio and Ignis were lax and pretty informal around Noctis, he was still their charge and they would never once forget that. Prompto may be Noctis’ best friend, but if Noctis ever lost the spare time needed to spend time with him, Prompto would without a doubt understand and not fight the issue. It showed in the way Noctis’ decisions were final, regardless if Ignis would be better suited to making group decisions, because _Noctis_ is the Prince of Lucis.

And oh Six, how would the prince respond to learning that he had a twin this whole time? A twin that he hadn’t even known existed for twenty years? A sister that he had traveled with, fought with, laughed and smiled with? He’d undoubtedly start asking the questions you’ve stewed upon for years about King Regis, effectively flipping his already upside down world into an even more incomprehensible mess. 

It was better if you kept your carefully constructed walls up, no matter how lonely and isolated it left you. This little gang of misfits had already started wiggling their way into your heart, and the last thing you wanted was to cause more confusion in an already uncertain world.

A cup of coffee is silently set on your side of the small table, the movement jolting you from your thoughts as Ignis returns to his seat, his own cup steaming. As you bring the caffeine to your lips, you hear Ignis warn, “Careful, it’s hot.”

Catching his eyes and raising an eyebrow, you can’t help but respond back with sarcasm. “Oh really? I honestly couldn’t tell, what with the steam and all.”

A smile quirks the edges of his lips. “Just thought it prudent to warn you.”

“I’m not _that_ out of it,” you say a moment before misjudging how full the cup is and nearly spilling scalding hot liquid all over your front. The advisor watches your quick save with amusement. Opting to pretend like nothing ever happened, that you totally didn’t just almost humiliate yourself beyond repair, you set down the cup and glance at the caravan. “How long you going to let them sleep?”

“As long as I’m able to,” is the response. “Although Gladio has a hard time sleeping in.”

“Like you? Must come with the job.”

“Have to set a good example for His Highness.”

“He doesn’t seem to be following it all that well.”

“Yes, well, one can hope.”

“It’s been twenty years already,” you chuckle, leaning back in a stretch. “I have a feeling you’ll be hoping for a while more yet.”

The sigh he heaves out almost has you choking down a laugh. “I fear you may be right.”

Tapping your finger against the killer coffee before gripping it like it might bite, you rise to your feet. “Takka doesn’t sleep either. Hungry?”

“Hell yeah,” comes the gruff voice of Gladio as he steps out of the caravan, mouth open in a yawn.

After agreeing that the smell of food might just raise the two last boys from death itself you find yourself listening in on the early morning patrons of Takka’s diner as the chef gets working on your orders, sipping your now drinkable coffee and pretending not to be eavesdropping like the bad fly on the wall that you are. It’s all news you’ve heard before, mixed with a bit of speculation and fear. The most prominent topic is the refugee situation. Who survived? Where were they going to go?

All important questions that no one had answers to. No one but possibly Cor Leonis, that is. Finding your hypothesis correct and watching with worried eyes as Noctis picks at his food and Prompto tries his best at light conversation, you’re soon stuffing your head in your helmet and keeping pace with the Regalia on its way to Prairie Outpost, where apparently Cor teleported to after informing Noctis he’d be in Hammerhead instead.

The ride gives you time to evaluate your situation. King Regis is officially gone, meaning you can’t use magic without prompting questions you can’t answer. Thankfully none of the guys had commented on your magical stunts on the way to that overlook, though you’re not aware of the green eyes glancing at you from time to time in the rearview mirror. No king equals no magic of any kind. Frustrating, but doable. Until you find out that Cor Leonis wants you to _infiltrate a damn Nif base._ But until then? Definitely, totally doable.

Cor the Immortal doesn’t ever seem to be where he says he’ll be. Arriving at the outpost has a Crownguard member named Monica pointing you up a path and to a royal tomb, though she finds a bit of time to reassure Gladio that his sister made it out safely and is headed to Lestallum. Nobody says a word as a radio grabs the prince’s attention with talk of the Oracle, and everyone keeps their silence on the matter as he gives the sylleblossoms next to the radio a long, sad look before continuing past.

“I’m guessing Iris is your sister?” you say a ways up the path, turning on your heel to walk backward as you give the Shield a smile. “Glad she’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too,” he responds. “Knowing her, I bet she’s doing all she can to help out the other refugees.”

“Iris is so nice,” comments Prompto.

“She sounds like it.” Your words are almost drowned out by the screech of daggerquills above a moment before they dive-bomb the squad.

You find yourself utterly useless as Prompto and Noct take aim with guns, Ignis pulls a thousand and one daggers out of his pockets to throw, and Gladio huffily chucks his broadsword like it weighs nothing. Honestly, you’re kind of impressed that he’s able to do that and you find yourself contemplating just _how_ much strength he’s really packing away for days after. For any melee weapon thrown, it’s easily tagged back into the owner’s magical armory to appear right back into the hands that’ll throw it again. But since you have to pretend like magic is no longer a thing for you? Yeah, if you throw your dagger it’ll be gone forever, or at least until you can come up with a plausible reason for why you suddenly have it again. 

So when the daggerquills are all taken care of and Gladio turns to you, you just _know_ what he’s going to say. “Did the Glaive lose her teeth?”

Your expression alone has the Shield grinning triumphantly. “Your sword didn’t hit a single feather, tough guy.”

“She has you there,” pokes Ignis.

“It must be tough, losing your magic,” comes Prompto, turning to you and ultimately derailing whatever comeback Gladio has on his tongue.

Emerald eyes narrow slightly.

“It’s frustrating, that’s for sure,” you sigh out. “And since Noctis doesn’t have the Ring of the Lucii, he can’t create or rekindle any of the Glaive contracts.”

“So you’re just normal now, then?”

Crossing your arms and giving the blonde a frown, you respond, “I can still kick ass.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Noctis jumps in, giving you a quick smile before setting back down the trail. 

The tomb is simple but beautiful to look at. Relics of the past have always given you a sense of mystery and an urge to dig into the secrets they held, so it’s no surprise that you stand in awe as your eyes roam across the beautiful engraving on and around the door. You wonder what the significance of the statue above is for, or even who it is. Maybe one of the past king’s loved ones? A wife or daughter, perhaps?

“A tomb fit for royalty,” you hear Prompto mutter as Noctis pushes the door open.

A part of you was expecting to find an empty tomb, Cor having bolted to yet another part of Eos. Instead he turns as you all enter, greeting with, “At last, Your Highness.”

Well, you would have met up with him yesterday had he not taken off right after letting Noctis know he’d be in Hammerhead. But eh, details, right?

“Yeah.” It seems you’re not the only one giving the coffin looks, although Noctis seems to be looking at it simply because it’s in the way of his eyes and the floor. “Wanna tell me what I’m here for?”

Cor doesn’t waste any time. “The power of kings, passed from the old to the new through the bonding of souls.”

You raise your eyebrows at that statement.

“One such soul lies before you. To claim your forebears’ power is your birthright and duty as king.”

This was new. Powers of the Crystal were still being discovered, and the usage of life energy was always a topic of debate in that field of research. With the inception of the Kingsglaive, many previous magical theories had been given the chance to become fact, fiction, or reworked. Since the royal family and the Oracle have historically been the only ones with magical abilities, scientists had jumped at the chance to have more subjects to observe. Where once they had just theories with no way to test them, suddenly there was a plethora of subjects.

It was widely agreed upon that magic had a limit. After a certain amount of usages or even depending on the speed of which a spell was used in concession with another, the body would show signs of physical harm. Canyons of fire, as if the body was being burned from the inside out, while healing quickly, would leave more than a slight discomfort. There were rumors that if one were to strip the sleeves of King Regis, they’d find those canyons, scarring and deep. Holding a continuous, wide ranged and powerful spell like the Wall for years on end was directly linked to his sped up aging process, but what other effects it had on the King aside from what was physically obvious was kept behind locked doors.

Bottom line was, the magic had to get emergency fuel from somewhere, and King Regis was the walking proof of this. So then, what did _soul bonding_ encompass?

Before you can get too sidetracked, however, Noctis breaks the silence. “My duty as King of what?”

You can’t help the wry smile that flits across your lips.

Cor looks more than a little irritated. “Now is not the time to question your calling.” Ignoring Noctis’ huff of exasperation, he plows on. “A king is sworn to protect his people.”

“And yet he chose to protect only one prince.” _And a disowned princess,_ you think bitterly as Noct continues, seemingly to voice all the doubts that had been screaming in your heart. “Was that his calling? To forsake the masses to spare his own son?”

Cor approaches, words heavy and direct. “How long will you remain the protected? The King entrusted the role of protector to you.”

“’Entrusted’ it to me?” There’s that familiar anger, burning identical within the twins present in the room. “Then why didn’t he tell me that? Why did he stand there smiling as he left?” While you’re only able to speak your discontent with narrowed eyes, Noctis slams his hand on the tomb. “Why—” That break is all too familiar, all too personal. Without thinking you reach out, resting a hand between the prince’s shoulder blades as the anger bleeds out, being replaced with that deep, dark abyss of helplessness. “Why did he lie to me?”

It takes all your self control to swallow down the emotions that fight to your heart, understanding reverberating through your very bones.

“That day,” Cor starts, sounding as if he was relaying a message meant for the both of you, “he didn’t want you to remember him as the king. In what time you had left, he wanted to be your father.”

Noctis is doing all he can to keep those tears in. You take an instinctual step closer.

“He always had faith in you, that when the time came, you would ascend for the sake of your people.”

His shaking subsides, and a moment later you watch as the prince straightens. “Guess he left me no choice.” Those words are resigned, unwanted. Feeling the deep breathes he takes, you can feel his shaky resolve as he extends his hand.

What happens next is both brilliant and terrifying. The sword, held tight between the stone grip of the coffin’s statue, suddenly brightens like a fallen star. Flinching back, you miss as it rises in the air like some celestial omen, more of a crystal now than any sort of metal. You take it all in with wide eyes, but as it suddenly dips and heads, point first, to Noctis’ chest you find yourself stumbling forward in a sudden panic. Even Noctis takes a faltered step back as it makes contact, flaring his heart into a sun as it’s tagged.

What in the _hell_ was that? Noctis shows no sign of pain as he presses his hand to his chest, that weird heart light fading as quickly as it came. You don’t even pay attention to Cor’s next words as you’re busy studying the prince head to toe. Never had you seen something so spectacular and so scary. Weapons do not rush their tagger like that. Was it because it was being bonded to his soul? What did that even mean, both theoretically and physically for Noctis?

“The hell,” you find yourself muttering as Cor proceeds to inform everyone that there’s _more_ of these weird soul bonding weapons out there and that he’s going to be personally escorting you five to the next one nearby.

Lovely.


	8. You're Kind of Cor's Errand Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing the dungeon exploration in this chapter. It was so much fun. I actually got a more concrete idea for this chapter's ending when I was playing FFXV to take notes (I actually play a bit of the game and write down anything I wanna add into this fic before actually sitting down to write the next few chapters), when I noticed Loqi actually liked to target Noct and then switch targets to trip me up. I dunno if that was intentional coding or if I was just warped too far away for him to bother with throwing missiles at me, but I liked the idea either way.
> 
> Over 1200 hits and over 100 kudos! You guys keep my spirits up! Thank you so much for all the comments and positivity! It feels wonderful to see this little for-funsies fic be liked by so many! <3

So there were thirteen of these things, locations unknown except for the next one you were heading towards. This tomb just happened to be underground, somewhere in the tunnels of Ketcatrich Trench. Prompto’s face screwed up at its mention, but you found yourself blurting out the first question that came to mind: “Why did they want to be buried _in tunnels?_ ”

Whether he thinks your question’s stupid, Cor shows no sign of it. “It didn’t always used to be tunnels. Long years ago, we waged war against the empire here.” He nods up ahead when you all turn the corner, directing your gaze to the ruins. “It all went to ruin, and after that, the empire moved in like it owned the place.”

“Oh wow,” you breathe out, quickening your pace until a shout from one of your companions stills your feet. This place oozes of history and sadness, of battle and a time when people called this place home. The fort that spans the whole cliff side seems to be the only structure not falling apart, and there’s even abandoned Niflheim airships littered about. “I wonder what this place used to look like...”

“Are you a history nerd?” questions Gladio when he catches up, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Not so much history as just… a ruins nerd?” you answer uncertainly, lifting your shoulders up in a small shrug, suddenly sheepish. You’d stare at pictures of ruins for hours as a child, and when you grew up and realized that there were abandoned places just dotted around Lucis, you’d do your best to convince your guardian to let you do a bit of exploring whenever you came across one. If that failed and you happened to be camping nearby, you’d just sneak off the first chance you got.

“Huh. Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“I have weird interests, I know,” you say, giving a small smile.

“Never said it was a bad thing,” clarifies Gladio, flashing you a wink as he walks past. 

Allowing yourself to fall back, you take in the scenery as Cor leads you all to the entrance of the Trench. Some territorial creatures decide you’re strutting too far into their land and think they can just run up and throw you out of the ring with an easy knockout. Joke’s on them, you have Cor the freaking Immortal on your side and they quickly learn they have no chance in hell as they’re downed with one swing of his katana.

You’re super glad this man is on your side.

A part of you is disappointed you can’t show off in front of the legend. Instead of warping all fancily and dancing around with magic, you’re stuck just swiping your dagger at things and jumping away when something tries to slap you. This doesn’t stop Cor from noticing your effort and complimenting the way you seem to waste no movement. You’d never admit it, but this makes you just as giddy and flustered as Prompto, who seems to barely be able to stutter out a sentence to the man without very visibly freaking out with excitement and awe.

The marshal is a busy man and he leaves you all at the entrance of the dark tunnels, tossing Noctis a key and peacing out to teleport to the other side of the continent. With the Immortal gone, Prompto takes a deep breath and just starts gushing.

“He’s _so cool!_ ” he practically squeals. “He complimented me! Me!”

“He recognizes the effort his men put in,” Ignis says, stroking Prompto’s elation.

You can’t help but smile as the blond just _beams_ at that comment. Bumping him with your shoulder, you add in, “I think he complimented you more than he did me. Or anyone else, really.”

“Of course he did,” comes Gladio, automatically drawing out your ire as you instantly expect his teasing needles. Instead he throws you a curveball. “He’s not a badass woman that could probably nag his ear off while stabbing a behemoth to death.”

You blink at him a few times, unsure if you should take that as a compliment or not. “I, um… Thanks?” Crossing your arms, you tilt your head. “Are you saying he was intimidated by me? Cause that guy literally cleaved a coeurl in two with one swing.”

“ _I know._ ” And there’s Prompto. “Wasn’t it _so cool?_ ”

“We should make haste to the tomb.” Ignis is probably fed up with this conversation that seems to be going nowhere fast. “The sun won’t be out forever.”

“Let’s make tracks.” With that comment, Noctis steps forward into the tunnels, disappearing instantly as if the darkness was just waiting to swallow him up.

Nerves are instantly on alert as you follow the group, eyes latching onto the door on the far side before roaming to the pile of sacks next to it.

“Whoa,” you breathe out.

“What is this place?” Prompto asks at the same time.

Ignis is more than glad to help him with basic observation. “It appears to have been a shelter.”

“So is this whole place going to have remnants of the refugees? From that war Cor mentioned earlier?” you ask aloud to no one in particular, a smile stretching across your face. “I hope so. I will gladly take point.”

“Fine by me,” comes the prince, stepping aside as you pass under the rusty doorframe and continue further down into the earth. “It’s creepy in here.”

Indeed it is. The heavy darkness alone brings goose bumps down your arms. Even when you all find the generator and turn the lights on, you can’t help but feel your stomach twisting with nerves. You lose all sense of courage when you find your first human built wall and promptly barrel straight into it when Gladio kicks a can, the humiliation being followed closely after by Noctis pushing a squeaky ass metal door open when you turn your back and this time jumping so badly you nearly body Ignis to the floor. 

You fling your apologies so quickly to the poor advisor that you’re not really sure he understands you. Rounding on Noctis, who has a hand hiding his smile but failing miserably to hide his shaking shoulders, you nearly shout, “Give a girl some warning next time! Six, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”

“Who knew Glaives were so jumpy?” pokes Gladio, a smirk sliding easily onto his face.

Prompto comes to your defense. “Dude, that noise is the worst!” Glancing about quickly, he adds, “Don’t you feel those eyes on us? [Name]’s got the right idea. The second we turn our backs, BAM!”

Rolling his eyes, Gladio just continues forward. “Stop being a wuss.”

“It’s called having good reflexes!” you call after him, pointedly ignoring the strangled laughs of the prince as you huffily pass by him.

“A-Are you – _pfft_ – are you okay, Ignis?”

“Just peachy,” is the reply, finger sliding his glasses back up his nose. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be staying farther back from now on.”

Everyone makes sure you’re well aware any time one of them wants to try a door. At some point Gladio thinks it’s a good idea to say, “The door’s a-locking. Let’s go a-knockin’,” after trying a locked door and you roast him over how horribly stretched that pun was. You even go so far as to shout out, “They come a-droppin’. We start a-choppin’,” when you all reach a dead end and get ambushed by goblins the same moments the lights flicker out. One unfortunate little daemon gets punted so hard that it collides with your chest and takes you to the floor, dissipating into a sad little cloud as you lie there dying on its fumes. Gladio doesn’t let you live that down for weeks.

You stop dead in your tracks when a door ahead of you closes shut on its own volition. Ignis steps up to find it locked and you suddenly have an urge to just turn around and pretend these tunnels never existed. When you come into a room to hear some squeaky sound and find out it was pipe wheels turning by themselves? You instantly deem the place haunted and determine you never want to come back here again, ruins or not. This place was bad for your health and even worse for your sanity.

When the arachne drops from the ceiling you’re just done. You hit your breaking point and break the damn gauge. It’s not in the way you scream like a girl and catapult yourself into the nearest wall. No, not at all. After you tear your face from the wall you assault that spider like it just killed your dog. Even without magic you’re a living terror, killing it so viciously that it shivers in its grave. All four boys are giving you a wary and concerned eye as you calmly slide your dagger back in its sheathe and strut forward like you didn’t just scream all the profanities in existence and hide your hysterics by slicing a daemon beyond recognition.

“You think she’s…alright?” asks Prompto hesitantly to the guys as they step closer to converse while you walk over to the far door and push it open.

“Not in the slightest,” is Ignis’ instant response.

You ignore them, passing the threshold and not waiting while the boys hurry to catch up.

Thankfully it’s not much longer until you all come across the fancy tomb door. The engravings, you notice, are very similar to the previous one, and it looks like the door markings make a heart. Cute. Noctis unlocks the door and steps in, followed closely behind by the bros. But you? Despite wanting to explore every inch of the tomb’s interior, you really don’t want to watch Noctis get rushed by another soul weapon. The thought gives you chills and a feeling of dread, so you wait with your back pressed heavily against the tomb wall.

The voices of the guys echoes eerily out and down the tunnel, and you can’t help but give Noctis a once over when he reemerges. “Time to head back,” he announces, eliciting a mixed sigh of relief and anxiety from you.

“We’re at the home stretch,” Ignis tries to reassure, returning your small smile with his own.

You can’t agree more with Prompto when he says, “I am _so_ ready to get out of here!” 

It’s easier finding your way out, though it feels like it’s been an eternity since you breathed fresh air. Breaking out of the tunnels and filling your lungs, you tilt your head up to the stars above. “We’re free!”

“Woohoo!” comes Prompto.

“How late is it?” wonders Noctis.

“Late,” is the curt reply of Gladio.

“There was a campground overlooking the Outpost, if I’m not mistaken.” That’s Ignis, thinking ahead.

“Wasn’t there a caravan too?” questions Noctis, yawning.

“You know my vote,” pipes up Gladio.

“We have no idea if that caravan has enough room for us all,” you bring to the attention of the rest.

“I want a real bed…” whines the prince.

“I just want to crash.”

You agree with Prompto.

“Camping it is then,” confirms Ignis.

Noctis gives a displeased noise.

Gladio pats his charge on the back. “Suck it up, princess.”

The moment you reach the campground and pitch the tent, Noctis disappears into it and doesn’t reemerge until morning. Settling down next to the fire, you heave a big yawn as Prompto joins you while Ignis whips up something quick.

“Don’t burn yourself,” you call out wearily as you watch the cook maneuver around the stove.

“Should someone get Noct when the food’s done?” asks the blonde, staring at his darkened phone with the want to play King’s Knight but too tired to actually do so.

“Good luck getting him up,” responds Gladio, making all of you nod in agreement.

At some point you’d started dozing, head propped against your fist. When Prompto gently wakes you, you yawn, begrudgingly eat a piece of toast, and decide to join Noctis in the tent. The rest of the gang is quick to follow.

It’s the first night since the fall of Insomnia where you sleep like a log, too physically exhausted to toss and turn or even dream. It’s a bit reminiscent of your first morning with the boys when Ignis goads both you and the prince awake, you staring blearily at nothing while your brain attempts to kick in while Noctis tries in vain to escape back under his sleeping bag. 

“It’s only been an hour,” he whines while you yawn.

“It’s been a good seven, Your Highness.”

“Not enough.”

“It’ll have to do. Monica has a message for us.”

That gets Noctis peeking his head out. “From Cor?”

“The very one.”

You move to pat Noctis but find you don’t have the energy and instead collapse onto Gladio’s sleeping bag that rests beside your own. Looking like a caterpillar that aborted its cocoon but only managed to free its torso before dying a slow death, you manage to at least position yourself so you’re staring at the tent’s ceiling.

“You are both hopeless,” you hear Ignis murmur, amusement and exasperation mixing in his words.

You give a thumbs up.

“Breakfast will get cold,” is what he leaves the two of you with, content with that piece of information being enough of a shove to get you two crawling out of the tent. After last night’s light dinner, Ignis prepared something a bit more hearty and you inhale it like you haven’t eaten in years. You even manage to get an impressed whistle out of Gladio.

“So what does Monica want?” you wonder as you putter around the camp, helping the Shield collect things into piles: one for items Noctis has to tag and items going back into the trunk. The rest of the gang headed out with Noctis to talk to Monica.

“Knowing Cor, probably something to do with the Nifs,” he responds, collapsing the tent while you fold up the chairs.

“But don’t we need to focus on hunting down those tombs?”

“We can’t very well do that if we don’t have access to the rest of the Kingdom,” comes Ignis, stepping into camp with Noctis and Prompto right on his heels. “The empire has set up a base on the road leading into Duscae.”

You know where this is going. “And he wants our help to take it down?”

“Yes. He wants us to meet him at a back entrance he found.”

“It’s right up the road, if you can believe it,” adds Prompto.

“We’ve been that close to an enemy base?” There’s a slight shiver making its way down your spine that you hide by pointing to Noctis’ stack of items. “Tag those back in, would you? And come help me with these chairs. We shouldn’t keep the almighty marshal waiting.”

Once more you half expect Cor to have gotten impatient and ran off somewhere, but he’s there waiting for you all to arrive. Giving everyone but Noctis the task to be annoying little distractions and stealing the prince to help him infiltrate the base, Cor leaves you all with a brisk, “I’m counting on you,” before disappearing.

Stepping up to the base’s entrance and giving the metal gate a look, you ask, “So how are we gonna do this? Just make a lot of noise?”

“HEY!” Nearly jumping five feet in the air, you spin and watch as Gladio flips off the base and continues shouting, “Niflheim fucks! Come and get me!”

“That’s…one way to do it,” mutters Ignis a second before the alarms go off.

“Never a boring moment?” you try, shrugging hopelessly as the first wave of soldiers come to greet you.

Absentmindedly you wonder how little resistance Cor and Noctis are facing after yanking your dagger out of the nth face of a Magitek soldier. For being an empire base, there aren’t as many soldiers as you were expecting. The sentiment seems to be shared when Gladio makes a comment about that very thing, but soon you’re both backtracking on those thoughts as you’re all greeted by a rather imposing looking Magitek armor manned by someone with a rather annoying voice.

If being grounded before was irritating, it’s during this fight when you learn that you might not be able to keep this charade up. The thing has freaking _homing missiles_ , always aimed at Noct, and it takes all your self control to not just warp him out of the damn fight entirely after knocking him out of the way of yet another deadly barrage. In a fight like this, all it takes is one misstep for something drastic to happen.

That misstep comes from all of you. When an enemy intentionally targets one person, the repetition has a chance to lull any defender into a false sense of security and understanding. So when the next barrage of missiles are fired, everyone flicks their eyes to Noctis. It’s that fatal error that has you bleeding afterward.

It starts with Cor simply yelling out Ignis’ name a moment before the advisor is thrown back, having barely missed being directly hit. But these things come in pairs, and it’s in that moment when the world seems to slow. You see him hit the concrete hard, the next set of missiles fixed right for his prone figure.

You don’t have time to think.

Throwing your dagger with a strength you didn’t know you had, you manage the fastest warp of your life. Before your feet even hit the ground you’re throwing out that barrier, feeling the break more than hearing it as the missiles shatter your shield. Going with your momentum, you fall on top of Ignis as the shrapnel flies.

It’s at this point when the world speeds up. One moment you’re throwing yourself onto Noct’s advisor and the next you’re body feels like it’s on fire, black inking your vision as you struggle desperately to rise off the suddenly slippery concrete. Did you land in a puddle of oil? When did oil look red? Why can’t you move your right arm? Is that someone speaking? You can’t tell, your ears are ringing and your thoughts are far from coherent. Honestly, you can’t even tell why your chest feels tight.

When you start registering the panic fluttering in your chest is the same moment that darkness takes over, dragging you into the depths of nothingness.


	9. There Goes a Couple Weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember starting this chapter going, "What am I going to do with this?" This was around the point where my plans got a bit fuzzy, so I improvised more than I have in previous chapters. I feel like this actually started the point of the heavy improvisation I'm still currently doing (should I be admitting to that?), especially with the ending scene (comments on that part at the end of this chapter so I don't spoil anything here). I knew what I wanted to happen, just not quite how I'd get to the end result, if that makes sense? So while this chapter is shorter than others, I believe it got done what I wanted it to do.
> 
> I think this is a prime example of the characters taking the pen from me and writing their own story bits themselves.
> 
> The amount of comments I received from the last chapter was absolutely fantastic and shocking, thank you all so much! Not to mention we're almost at the 1500 hits and 150 kudos mark! You guys always put a smile on my face! <3

It came as naturally as breathing, the way you had become such an integral part of the gang in such a short amount of time. They say hardship brings people together and battle builds trust that would otherwise take months or even years to establish. Noct and the others have all been through both with you, so it came as no surprise when the world seemed to halt with bated breath as you lay on your sick bed, oblivious to the world as your body healed.

Noctis refuses to leave your side, skipping on sleep to doze in the chair placed beside your bed. As one can imagine, this leaves a very sleep deprived and very irritable prince, one Gladiolus and Ignis have to gang up on with the bad-cop-good-cop routine to finally get him to lie down for a full night’s rest before he actually chews someone’s head off. Prompto remains eerily docile, his genuine cheer replaced with something akin to optimism. He’s the one that talks to you as you sleep, keeping you updated on what’s going on and what the plans are for after you wake up. Gladio’s visits are brief, never having been a man to dwell on things he can’t control and to instead burn off his energy doing something more productive. In this case, it’s exercising or training with the Crownsguard members still stationed at the Outpost. 

And Ignis? Well, his mind can’t help but run in circles, logic and guilt fighting for control over his heart as the hours tick by. Because of you, he was able to walk away from what should have killed him with minor injuries. He had burns and deep cuts that would take time to heal, but he hadn’t been the one on an impromptu operating table getting countless shrapnel dug out of his back while looking as pale as a corpse. Knowing full well that hovering by your bedside like Noct wouldn’t do anything to speed up your recovery, he still finds himself loitering in the general area all the same.

It’s during these times when he can’t help but replay what had happened. Nobody else had noticed how quickly you had covered ground but Ignis had gotten a glimpse of that blue sheen, of that crystallized disruption of the air between you and death. Sure, it’s possible that he had seen things, the heat of the moment and all, but he’d worked with Noctis long enough to know magical residue when he saw it. And that earth shattering crack that had flown you on top of him? No missile makes that noise, like they’re dropped glass breaking on concrete.

He was waiting for you to slip up, but this wasn’t the type of fall he was expecting. Maybe a little slide down a patch of ice where you flail and he’d glide in with pretenses of helping you catch your balance, but a total dive off of a cliff? A dive you willingly took because _he_ had one foot in that abyss and you pulled him to safety? How could he pry information out of you when you would have and almost did give your life for his?

So he ponders when he’s not fretting over Noctis’ horrible sleeping patterns or lack of, when he’s not keeping his hands busy whipping up elaborate meals with the stock of ingredients the Crownsguard lets him use, when he’s not dragged along with the others to join Gladio’s sparring sessions. And when you finally open your eyes? He still hasn’t come up with an answer.

You come to slowly, like swimming through muddy water. It’s the light you register first as you heave your eyelids open, green hues squinting at the harsh artificial light placed on the bedside table that seems right in your face. Rolling your gaze groggily away, you’re now squinting at a noirette with wide blue eyes staring straight at you.

“[Name]?” he speaks in an almost breathless manner, hand coming down on the edge of your bed as he leans in closer.

It takes you a few moments for his face to come into focus, but your attempt at his name has you simply croaking like a frog. _Six_ your throat is dry as parchment. Noctis’ face lights up brighter than the bulb attempting to burn your eyes out of your skull as he gives your personal space back to yell to the world about your conscious state. You try to shift and finally take in the fact you’re on your stomach and could escape this gods awful light by attempting to suffocate yourself in your pillow. That’s what Monica and the rest of the gang see when they bustle into your makeshift tent, your face straight down into the pillow with your face slightly turned to allow your lips to act as a funnel to fill your lungs.

Prompto takes it upon himself to snap a picture of that particular ridiculousness, a good close up of your face that has you steaming in embarrassment for the rest of your life.

Noctis, being the best boy he is, turns the light away from trying to tan your face as you turn to Monica at her prompting, a small cup of water offered to relieve your throat so you can answer her simple questions. What’s your name? How old are you? Do you recognize the people in the room? What about your motor skills? Can you wiggle your appendages? How about pain? It’s that last question you seem to fail at, Monica’s expression tightening ever so slightly when you shake your head as she reassures tensely, “It’s probably just the painkillers.” Once she’s content, she takes her leave after instructing the boys on how much fluid they’re allowed to give you at one time if you ask for any and to not, under any circumstances, let you sit up or reposition without her guidance.

“It’s not the most comfortable, lying on my stomach,” you grumble unhappily, Monica flashing you a quick smile but opting to pretend you never spoke as she leaves. “I’m practically planking on the bed.”

“How do you feel?” comes Noctis, sat once more in the chair he’s barely left, hands clasped together tightly.

“Fine,” you manage out. “Uncomfortable, and sleepy. What… What happened?”

There’s a silence that briefly settles as the boys look at each other, not one of them wanting to relive that horrible memory. Eventually Ignis sighs and takes that responsibility. He speaks slowly, as if he chews each word thoughtfully before letting them leave his tongue. “You were hit by a missile explosion.”

Now that the ice has been broken, Prompto finds a bit of courage. “Protecting Ignis, actually.”

“Scared the shit out of us,” adds in Gladio, arms crossed but a small, relieved smile playing about his lips.

“Sorry,” you find yourself mumbling.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” comes Noctis quickly.

Fatigue hits you hard and out of nowhere, and you suddenly find it’s hard to follow along with a simple conversation such as this. You try your best when Ignis changes the subject. “Perhaps now His Highness will get some sleep.”

Prompto instantly hops on the tease-Noctis train. “This guy hasn’t left your side once. Well, willingly. Mama Ignis and Gladio had to team up against him. Repeatedly.”

“I’m sure it was scary, his face being the first thing you see and all,” joins in Gladio.

“Hey!”

“Noct,” you say sleepily, his eyes snapping to catch yours as you continue, “let’s have a contest to see who sleeps the longest.”

And then you’re out, back into that dreamless haze of sleep. The next time you wake you can feel the ache in your back and right arm, Monica having cut down on the meds fed to you through the drip in your left arm. Your acknowledgement of said pain prompts a smile of relief from her as she warns that the pain is necessary to gauge your recovery and she won’t be able to numb it anymore. At the very least, she does allow you to turn onto your side and give your stomach a break, although if you fall asleep that way her or one of the boys must be there to make sure you don’t shift onto your back.

Speaking of the boys, there’s always one in your tent when you wake up. Seven times out of ten it’s Noctis, but with each wake up you stay conscious longer, your brain registering just a little bit more than last time. You learn that your Kingsglaive jacket is shredded beyond repair and that there’s a spare Crownsguard one if you want it. It’s hard not to stare at the state your jacket is in without wondering how badly scarred your back will be when it’s all healed and what state you’d be in without the protection it offered. Nobody’s been able to give you a good account of what exactly had happened during the battle, but there’s that moment when it all clicks and you’re able to recall the important bits: the warp, the shield, the act of covering Ignis when your protection shattered. Ignis himself hasn’t mentioned anything about any magic, but you wonder just how much the advisor actually knows and suspects.

Ignis is the one that helps you to your feet when you’re finally allowed out of bed, keeping a firm hold on your healthy arm and waist as your shaky legs struggle to find their strength back. There’s a lot of physical therapy in your future from then on, ranging from walks around the Outpost to regain your stamina to strength training to regain the lost muscle in your right arm. When the shield shattered, the magical shards had dug deep into your arm before fizzling out, one cutting right into your artery.

The human body is amazing, the way it can bounce back so quickly. While it’ll take more time for your arm to get back up to speed, you are allowed to finally unwrap it. Freshly healed scars carve their way up and down your limb, some already light and on their way to disappearing while others, like the one above your artery, will stay for the rest of your life.

It’s around this time when Monica allows you to join back up with your gang of misfits, giving you leave of your impromptu hospital stay with a small stash of pain meds, healing salves, and bandages. Bending certain ways still cause you pain and your stamina was far from what it used to be, but staying put was starting to drive you insane and make you antsy. There was still so much to do, so many tombs to hunt down and an empire to topple. So after spending on last night on the campground overlooking Prairie Outpost, you all strike out for Duscae.

“So where did Cor disappear to?” you ask that night in front of the fire, a mug of hot cocoa in your hands, courtesy of Ignis.

“Who knows?” come Noct, wiggling his phone to get your attention. “King’s Knight?”

“I see what you’ve missed about me,” you joke as you load up the app. “It’s good to be back,” you add quietly, not having realized you’d spoken aloud until Prompto’s fist bumps lightly against your shoulder.

“We’re glad to have you back!”

“It was starting to make me queasy, waking up every morning to no one but dudes,” comments Gladio, smiling as you almost choke on your drink.

“You should’ve told us,” comes Noctis, a hand hiding his grin. “We could have totally dressed Prompto up as a girl.”

“Whoa, wait, what?” sputters the blonde, nearly dropping his phone in shock. “Dude, if anyone is pretty enough to pass as a girl, it’s you.”

“You do have that face,” agrees Gladio.

“Now wait just a second,” Noctis attempts at backpedaling. “I am —”

“Take it from me, Noct,” you butt in, giggling. “If we just put some accessories in your hair and brushed it into a female style, you could totally pass as a girl.” Moving to take a drink but nearly spitting it out when the thought hits you, you laugh out, “We could totally test it out right now! I have a brush in my bag!”

“Let’s do it,” is Prompto’s instant response.

“You touch me, you die,” is Noctis’.

“We know where you sleep,” is yours to Noct’s.

“You are a very heavy sleeper,” comments Ignis, slyly throwing his own fuel onto this fire.

“It’s decided,” you say, standing up. “I’m getting my brush.”

Noctis’ piercing blue eyes follow you like a hawk’s as you pass him by and enter the hut, where your bag sits lonely in the corner. While you fish out your brush and stop in horror at what you’d just encouraged and find yourself questioning just where in the hell your cautiousness went, the prince nonchalantly locks his phone and slips it into his pocket as he stands up and pretends to stretch. Gladio, knowing his charge’s habits like the back of his hand, is on his feet in a second, a “Don’t you dare,” barely able to pass his lips before Noctis takes off, chair clattering to the ground as he launches himself off of the inscribed rock like it’s on fire. 

“Noct!” calls Ignis to the prince’s retreating back. “Don’t stray too far!”

“We going after him?” wonders Prompto, glancing at Gladio with a raised eyebrow when you pop your head out of the tent, confused from all the noise.

“Eh. He has to come back eventually,” is the Shield’s response, settling back down in his fold up chair. “He only has one sleeping bag, and it’s in that tent.”

“There is a caravan though,” you pipe up, piecing two and two together on what had happened while you’d been gone and hiding the relief blooming in your chest. “Couldn’t he just rent it out?”

You swear an icy breeze finds its way through the heat as Ignis places the last nail in Noctis’ coffin. “There _is_ a money stash in the car…”

“Oh _hell_ no.” Gladio’s back on his feet, jumping off the rock with a silent fury that has you giggling hysterically. 

“He wouldn’t waste our money like that, would he?” Prompto pauses. “Yeah, no, he would.”

“Let’s just hope Gladio can find him in time,” comes the amused voice of Ignis as he settles into the chair next to Noctis’ empty one.

“Gladio looked like a bloodhound on a mission,” you laugh, tossing your brush on Noct’s chair as you sit, retrieving your half empty mug and taking a sip. “Do you think Noctis will come back alive?”

“Should we take bets?” comes the blonde, throwing a smile your way as you chuckle.

“My nonexistent money is on the muscle,” you respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small anxious rant ahead, you have been warned!
> 
> Onto what had me working on this chapter for like, 2 weeks. I originally wrote the ending scene having completely forgotten about MC's and Noctis' similar appearance. My friend and not-really-official-editor was like, "Shouldn't she be worried about that?" and I was like, "....U rite." So then I found myself staring at the words not really wanting to delete the scene of Noct taking off for dear life. I had such a blast writing it, and I thought that bit of levity was needed after a more serious chapter. So after a lot of internal debating, I decided to go with my initial forgetfulness with the thought of, "If I, the creator, momentarily forgot after all that has happened, what's to say the MC didn't either?" And it's that tweak that has me hoping the rest of the fic that's written and currently being written works well, because that slip-up for the MC is a major thing and not something I can easily write off. 
> 
> It's a challenge I decided to tackle instead of avoid, and if I'm being honest, it's given even more depth to MC and her situation, for both the story and you wonderful people reading it :D 
> 
> Just thought I should give a bit of an explanation if that scene comes across as a bit odd, is all. Hopefully I tweaked it well enough to where it doesn't, but! Just in case! I really do hope it worked well though >w<'


	10. You're Errand Boys for Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't as long as I'd like either. I try to always hit 3k words for every chapter. Forgive me. Also! There will be no upload next week, since I'll be out of town and across the country. I'll be visiting my friend and future roommate! I'll be bringing my laptop, so if I have the chance to write I can take it!
> 
> We've hit the 1500 hits mark and we're so close to 150 kudos! I know I say this every upload, but, I adore you all so much for taking the time to read this fic and for those who go the extra mile to comment! <3

“Where the _fuck_ are these goddamn _frogs?!_ ” you nearly scream out, grabbing a nearby rock and chucking it into the lake with all your might. Any longer and you might just throw yourself in to end this madness.

“They’re supposed to be around here,” you hear Noctis from behind a rock.

“We’ve found two,” comes Prompto cheerily. “Better than none.”

All of this bending has your back screaming at you, but you’d be damned if you tapped out now because of some damn frogs. With a hand pressed against the small of your back, you wander over to a nearby large rock, start your orbit of it and then wonder for the thousandth time if you’ve already checked this rock three times already. “I _hear_ them, goddammit, so where the fuck are they?!”

“Perhaps we should take a break?” pipes in Ignis, emerald eyes watching your stiff and irritable movements as he steps away from the water’s edge.

Noct’s mouth is opening to respond, his eyes having flicked to you the moment Ignis spoke, but you cut him off. “And let these frogs win?”

“We can’t have you pushing yourself too hard.” That’s Gladio, deciding to forego beating around the bush to confront you head on. “You’re hunched like an old lady.”

“I am not!” you huff automatically, breaking eye contact a moment later to roll your gaze up to the graying sky. 

“How about you keep your eye on the frogs we’ve already caught? Y’know, to make sure they don’t escape.” There’s Prompto, trying his best to cut through your irritation. 

He succeeds, as he always does. With a bit more prompting, you’re herded over to the cage with the frogs and are left to watch as one bites the other for getting too close. “These are some testy frogs,” you mutter to yourself, plopping down onto the nearby rock and glancing at the four boys as they continue circling the area.

It’s irritating the way the thought of lying down appeals to you so much. Of course no one would want to lose their mind wandering around rock formations for annoying frogs that seem to teleport as quickly as Cor, but you should at least have the _energy_ to do so. Instead you’re hunched over with an aching back and already feeling tired from just the walk to get here. Granted you _should_ be happy that you can even achieve that much, considering you’d been down for the count after a couple of steps the first time you’d left your little sick bed, but it was hard to ignore the pressing danger that was the empire and, hell, wild animals that seemed to just come out of nowhere and try to bite you in the face like that frog did to its cell companion not even a minutes ago.

Physical exhaustion was one thing, you could work through it and eventually regain the stamina you had lost, but the fact that Ignis hadn’t said a damn word about what had transpired was starting to get to you. There was a part of you that was immensely relieved about his silence. How would you even begin to explain what you’d done? Reclining back and going, “Oh, so, I’m Noctis’ twin sister and my magic didn’t actually disappear because I was born with it,” wouldn’t settle well with anyone, but it’s not like you could just approach Ignis and tell him everything. Hell, you’re almost certain that the advisor is waiting for you to eventually bring the subject up on your own when you’re ready, and that kind understanding brings about a fierce guilt that you’re not quite sure how to handle.

Then add in the fact that you almost _groomed Noctis to look like a girl._ That never would have even crossed your mind a few weeks ago, and this new development has you concerned in more ways than one. You _cannot_ get too close, those walls _must_ remain standing. You’ve known this from the very beginning, so what in the hell was wrong with you?

Rubbing your forehead in frustration, you throw all your thoughts to the backburner as Gladio approaches, plopping in another frog with the others.

“Careful,” you say, raising an eyebrow as the territorial frog eyes up the newbie. “That frog there is looking for trouble.”

“Isn’t every creature out here looking to knock some heads?” he responds seriously, gaining a nod and a smile out of you. 

“Head knocking is on a pause for me, however,” you sigh out, rubbing your back for emphasis. “At least Noct decided to go frog hunting instead of, I dunno, catoblepas hunting. Less stabbing and all.”

Gladio frowns, brown eyes watching as the intimidating frog hops up to the new addition and smacks its tongue against its head. “Frogs are definitely less fun.”

“I dunno,” you say, holding in a chuckle as the third frog reels back, glares at the first frog like it just killed its mother, and smacks it back. “We could totally bet on this frog fight that’s about to happen.”

“Thousand gil on my frog.”

“ _Your_ frog?” you laugh out at the same moment Noctis notices his Shield slacking off and shouts out, “Hey, Gladio!”

Shrugging his shoulders, he thrusts a thumb at the tussling frogs before turning on his heel. “I mean it. Keep me posted. I’ll be thinking on how to spend that one thousand gil.”

“In your dreams, big guy!” you call after him as he jogs away, leaving you to settle back into silence. Well, as silent as it can be with two slimy frogs biting each other while the other frog does its best to stick its face between the bars.

It takes you all almost all day to find these bright red frogs, and by the time you add the final frog to the pile you’re ready to never see another frog again in your life. These creatures are vicious, the third frog having rallied the others against the bully and now the first frog that used to be intimidating is literally getting stepped and sat on. Gladio is obviously ecstatic about this news, patting you on the shoulder and making you know that he won’t be forgetting about this debt you suddenly owe him. Noctis simply sends you a confused eyebrow raise as his Shield walks away, cage in hand, a glance you just shrug your shoulders and shake your head at.

You could have all set up camp near the lake, but considering how these frogs obviously have a bias against each other, you all unanimously agree that you should hand them all over to Sonia as quickly as possible before any dead frogs become a thing and you’d have to spend more time searching for a replacement. Everyone’s pace is slowed to match your own. It doesn’t pass your notice that whenever you start showing signs of physical stress, Ignis starts hovering by your side like a worried mother. His face is as smoothed over as always and his steps appear natural, but you know better. He’s always a certain amount of feet from you and his eyes continuously glance in your direction, as if to make sure you don't suddenly collapse. It’s a bit heartwarming knowing you’re around people who care, but it also hammers home how fragile you really are, both to yourself and to your friends.

How the mighty Kingsglaive has fallen.

While you’d been recuperating, Gladio had gotten a call from Iris. She’d made it safely to Lestallum and was working to help other refugees that arrived. You hadn’t spoken your dangerous hope out loud, but a part of you wondered if any Glaive members were waiting there. You’d had no contact from Nyx or Libertus since the Crown City fell and you knew what the odds were, but a small part of you hoped that maybe contact was impossible because of broken phones. Yours was certainly cracked yet somehow miraculously functioning while still somewhat nice to look at after your missile encounter, but who knows what had transpired that night? Hell, you’d simply dropped a previous phone once and it decided to peace out on life right then and there on the concrete.

Hope was sometimes the worst emotion to have, and that hope would continue to weigh like a one of those rocks you’d circled a thousand times when you all decided to wait on Lestallum for another day to check out the chocobo post down the road.

“Dude, chocobos,” was really all Prompto had to say on the matter for you to instantly back him up. Because dude, chocobos. You’d never really had an opportunity to just enjoy the presence of chocobos before. Glaives occasionally used them as modes of transportation during missions, but it’s not like you had the luxury to enjoy their presence and very existence. But now? Chocobos, chocobos everywhere.

At least you thought, until you get to Wiz Chocobo Post and realize they’re all hidden from the mighty hungry Deadeye and that you’d have to take him down if you want to enjoy the chocobos you’d come to see. Noctis practically rips the damn hunt poster in his eagerness to take the quest and you find yourself standing your ground against four men who want you to stay put in this chocoboless Chocobo Outpost.

“Guys, c’mon,” you nearly hiss, arms crossed and hip cocked in sass. “I may not be able to fight all that well—” Gladio snorts “—but I can still analyze a battlefield. Glaives are more than just people that stab shit.”

“Yeah, but…” That’s Noctis, trying to be nice.

“We don’t want you to hurt yourself. Even more, I mean,” Prompto adds hurriedly as you squint at him.

“Straining yourself will slow down your recovery.” Oh no, here comes Ignis with the _logic._ “If you end up straining an injury that hasn’t fully healed, you may end up damaging yourself in a more permanent way.”

His eyes narrow as you pout, but he knows his unspoken meaning has gotten through loud and clear by the way you sigh heavily and turn your face up to the sky. A piece of shrapnel could have easily severed your spine or lodged into an organ. Your jacket coupled with extreme luck has you walking at all and you are well aware of what could have been. Doesn’t mean you can’t lament the fact that the group is going into danger to face a damn behemoth without you, completely unaware of the fact that you’d rather know they were okay than wait by yourself with thousands of horrible scenarios occupying your thoughts.

Wiz tries his best to keep you entertained as the gang sets out on the hunt. You actually do learn quite a bunch from him, like the fact that gysahl greens are actually safe for human consumption and can be made into a type of snack or even cooked into food for flavor. Ignis would definitely be interested in that last bit, something you take a mental note of for when he returns. A bored visit to the shops has you eyeing up some chocobo phone charms you eventually cave and buy, one for each of you using some of the money stashed in the Regalia. Most of your time, though, is spent pacing around the Outpost, half to work building up your stamina and half for simply working out the nervous energy that threatens to build up if you stay idle for longer than five minutes.

It’s really only a few hours that pass before the gang returns, but to you it feels like two lifetimes. They’re a bit bruised, bloody, and dirty, but all in one piece and that’s all that really matters. With the confirmation of Deadeye’s death, Wiz gives you the keys to the caravan for free to clean up while he herds his chocobos back to their outdoor pens.

Obviously Prompto skimps out on his shower to eagerly await the chocobos with you, and when that first chocobo comes into view? He nearly squeals your ears off but you’re the first to run up to it and give it a big hug. The chocobo, thankfully, chirps in your ear happily instead of freaking out over why some random, smelly human just threw itself onto its fluffy, clean feathers. The blonde quickly joins you in burying his face in the yellow feathers and suddenly you have a small flock of chocobos chirruping and pecking at your clothes in jealousy. 

Chocobos are playful birds. They particularly like bells, something you learn when Wiz hands you a rather large one without saying a word. A quick shake of that has all the birds singings and trying to peck it out of your hands. Whenever one of their peaks pings against the metal, that particular bird runs in circles excitedly. You’re nearly crying with how cute it all is when Prompto snatches the bell from your hands and proceeds to fangirl as hard as you are.

Noctis is the one that finds out that they’re also pretty competitive. He tosses one of their balls to see them all take off after it, pecking at each other and trying to steal the ball so they can be the one to return it and get praises. Of course there’s that one rebel bird that snatches the ball and runs away from all the others like a jerk, which usually pisses off the other birds enough to literally ruffle their feathers to intimidate the chocobo punk into giving back the fun for everyone else and to stop being such an asshole.

That’s all nothing compared to when the chocobo chicks make their debut. They all rush out like some weird but adorable yellow river, squeaking in excitement and rushing at you all only to get tangled in your hair and clothes like idiots. You decide to just lie on the ground and let the chicks jump on you to their hearts’ content, something Prompto instantly takes pictures of. These little guys find fascination in the littlest things, specifically Ignis’ glasses. They’re too small to really pluck it off his nose, but that doesn’t stop them from trying and having the whole gang minus Ignis laugh at their attempts. 

“Oh yeah,” you eventually say, feeling a chick burrow into your hair, “I got us all chocobo phone charms. They’re in a bag in the Regalia.”

“That’s awesome!” Prompto snaps a picture of you before continuing, “I’m totally putting that on my phone ASAP!”

“They’re different colors too. Hey, don’t dig! That’s my scalp!” Reaching up for the chick, it squeaks and jumps into your hand. “So I guess it’s first come first serve, though I did kinda have colors in mind for everyone when I bought them.”

“Oh yeah?” comes Gladio, waving away a chocobo that won’t stop pecking at his jacket. “What color did you pick for me?”

“Telling you is no fun.”

“I’m curious about these charms now.” Noctis pats a chocobo on the head before stepping out of the pen. “I’ll go grab them.”

“I dunno if it’s safe looking at them with these guys around,” you say, eyeing up all the birds around you. The last thing you want is a bird choking on, well, a miniature version of itself.

Everyone crowds around Noctis by the Regalia as he reveals the charms. Red, blue, gold, green, and pink chocobos stare back at you with wide eyes, and Prompto instantly snags the gold.

“Hey!” Noctis attempts to reach for the stolen goods but Prompto steps back.

“Gold is totally my color!” is the blonde’s defense.

“Definitely matches your hair,” you agree with a laugh.

“So what color did you choose for me?” tries Gladio again, eyeing up the different charms.

“I’m not that easy, Gladdy boy.”

“Whatever. I like this red.” Not reacting to that nickname at all, he reaches for the charm, Noctis frowning only slightly as he does.

“That’s fine. I want the blue anyway.”

“So that leaves green or pink for me?” comes Ignis, fingers to his chin as he thinks.

“Looks like it,” you chuckle.

“Which color would you like?”

“I don’t really care. I’ll take whatever’s left.”

“If you’re sure, then…” grasping the green chocobo, Ignis makes to attach it to his phone. “I’ll take this one.”

“So pink for me,” you say as Noct hands you the remaining one.

“So which color did you think fit me?” comes Gladio for the third time, red chocobo charm safe in his pocket.

“The pink, obviously,” you respond with a mischievous grin.

His eye roll practically speaks for him.


	11. A Light in the Turmoil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially planned to update last week, but I got home from my trip and realized jet lag sucks. I'm still trying to properly function, ugh ._. But anyway, thank you all for being so patient! We're actually quickly catching up to where I'm currently writing chapter wise for this fic, so updates may slow down a little bit while I try to get a good chunk of chapters done. I didn't get any writing done like I had hoped during my vacation since I ended up being out and about a lot more than I planned!
> 
> It's good to be back though :D I missed you all!
> 
> We're only a hundred and some odd hits away from 2000! To think so many people are interested in this little fic of mine! Thank you all so much, along with all the compliments you give! <3

The first thing that flits through your mind as you wake up the next morning is how the caravan even smells like chocobos. Groaning at the sunlight filtering in through the window, you attempt to roll away from it but remember a moment too late that you probably shouldn’t, pain lancing up your back and striking you instantly awake. Biting back some healthy swearing, you ease yourself out of your mess of blankets and glance longingly at the snoozing forms of Noctis and Prompto before stepping out into the fresh air.

Your first instinct is to head straight for the chocobo pens and hog them all to yourself before Prompto wakes up, but your careful attempt at stretching has your back screaming in protest and you have no choice but to sit in the nearest chair. Wiz is nowhere in sight, probably tending to his birds, so you’re free to collapse onto the table in pain without worrying about how weird you probably look.

“Good morning,” comes the friendly and somewhat surprised greeting of Ignis, a small can of Ebony in his hands as he takes the seat opposite yours. 

You attempt at responding with a good morning of your own, you really do, but it comes out all muffled and, admittedly, half assed as you bury your face in your arms. What time even was it? The fact that Prompto hadn’t even been awake yet has you wondering just what is wrong with you today. It was your job to compete with the prince to see who could sleep the longest, and right now, you were losing miserably.

“A couple sips of Ebony will wake you right up.”

That gets a droll stare from you, but Ignis views any sort of morning response from you as a small victory.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I slept great,” you respond with a wide yawn. “Just not long enough.”

Silence settles over the two of you as your eyes roam to the chocobos, groggy mind slowly waking up as it delights in the antics of the birds. You’d fawned over the great pictures Prompto had taken last night, begging for copies of a few that you knew would instantly go onto your fridge if you ever owned one again.

“Before we head out today,” comes Ignis once he’s determined you’ve woken up enough, “we should change your bandages.”

Monica had given the gang instructions on how frequently your bandages should be replaced and how often you should apply the healing salve she’d handed over. The big problem though? Monica had been the one tending to your wounds before, but now the only people able to do so were men. While yes, you’d been injured in the field before, you always had Crowe to tend to any inconvenient spots you weren’t comfortable with Nyx or Libertus seeing. But now? Your _whole back_ had to be rewrapped, meaning there goes your _entire shirt_ and would-be bra if you were even able to wear one comfortably over said bandages anyway. You’d learn to trust these men over the past few weeks, but you weren’t ready to strip for them.

“Do I even need bandages anymore?” you find yourself saying, rolling your face back into your arms to hide the creeping blush.

“Your shirt’s fabric is too rough and would only irritate the healing wounds.” He’s repeating what Monica had said, meaning you know he knows you know your question is only a means to stall and nothing more.

Ignis is far from a pervert. You understand he just wants to see you make a speedy recovery, but it doesn’t stop you from trying to deflect the whole situation anyway. “What, just eager to see me shirtless?”

His eyebrows rise imperceptibly as he adopts a very patient expression. “Of course not.”

You can’t keep his gaze. Groaning like you’re about to stick your hand into something disgusting and regret all your life choices, you stand up with crossed arms. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I believe Noct and Prompto are still sleeping in the caravan.” 

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, brows furrowing as you collapse back into your chair. “You’re totally right. They are.” Ignis hides a small smile by taking a sip of his coffee as you place your burning cheeks in your palms. “I wish I could just do this myself.”

“Do what yourself?” comes the gruff voice of Gladio, his sweaty and shirtless torso practically gleaming in the early morning light. You have to squint to look at him properly.

“Nothing,” you mumble, eyes darting to the comforting chocobos frolicking in their pens.

Gladio plops into a nearby chair as Ignis, after giving you a measured look, answers his question. “We were discussing the topic of [Name]’s bandages.”

“Time to change them?”

“Indeed it is.”

A groan escapes before you can catch it.

Gladio grins. “I’ll change them for you, if you want.”

You roll your eyes to the heavens in preparation.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve helped a girl out of her shirt.”

If you thought your face was hot already, it’s essentially boiling now. You won’t give Gladio the satisfaction of a reaction, so you focus on keeping your breathing even and posture from stiffening as you watch a chocobo nudge one of its chicks. Look how cute they are, parent and child. Is that chick intentionally trying to jump into the water trough? It keeps squeaking at its parent and trying to hop around them, its aim definitely the water. Suddenly you’re struck with a mutual understanding with the baby bird. You’d probably be trying to throw yourself into a body of water right now too, given the opportunity.

Ignis shoots Gladio a look before attempting to jump to your rescue. “I’ll handle the bandages, if that’s alright?”

Glancing at Ignis briefly, the retort on your tongue is hard to resist as you give Gladio a side eyed look. “It’s not that hard to take off a shirt. What kind of girls are you going for?” 

There’s Ignis again, bringing his coffee up for a sip.

“The kind that can’t get enough of me.”

You make it a point to make your bewildered snort loud and somewhat painful. “I knew you were intellectually challenged, Gladdy, dear, honey. But really? I haven’t seen a single girl swoon at your obnoxious muscles that you just love to show off by pretending no shirt fits you. I can count three girls off the top of my head that have totally brushed you off.” You hold up your index finger. “The first is Cindy, bless her soul since she could definitely do better.” Another sip from Ignis. “Sania, who I don’t think you have a chance with unless you’re a frog. Which you’re not, sadly.” Two digits in the air with a third rising. “Then there’s me, and I would rather a daemon attempt to change my bandages than you any day.”

There’s a snort behind you and you turn your head to see Prompto doing his best to hold in laughter, one arm holding his side while another hides his grin. “Ouch,” is all he manages to choke out.

Gladio’s arms are crossed, eyebrows raised but a smile still playing about his lips. “When we reach Lestallum, I’ll show you how easily I can make girls swoon.”

“And give up time spending with your sister? To prove a point? That’s cold, Gladdy.”

The smile you throw his way is responded to with a wink. 

“Speaking of, we better let Iris know to expect us,” Ignis says thoughtfully, successfully derailing the teasing that could go on for days if allowed. 

Allowing Ignis to get his way, you respond, “I’m excited to meet her.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along great,” comes Gladio, standing up. “I’m going to go take a quick shower.”

“I would say I hope the sound wakes Noctis up, but I’m sure he’d sleep through a hurricane.” You give the Shield a small wave as he steps past.

Prompto stretches his arms up, a yawn collapsing his chest. “My stomach’s rumbling.”

Ignis takes that as his cue. Deciding that trying out some of Wiz’s gysahl infused food would be good to try, the three of you receive your orders the moment a better smelling Gladio steps out of the caravan with a zombified prince. Food helps Noct find his humanity, although he refuses to touch the gysahl chips you offer him, no matter how much you try to talk and tease him into it. Buying a couple of chip bags for the road, you frown as Ignis grabs the medical supplies from the trunk and gives you a measured look.

Stepping into the caravan and plopping nervously onto the small coffee table bolted down in front of the couch, you cross your arms and avert your gaze as Ignis settles down on the cushions and slips off his gloves a moment before opening the medical bag. “I know you must be uncomfortable. I apologize.”

“For what?” you speak instantly, raising an eyebrow and briefly catching Ignis’ eyes. “I got hurt. That’s my fault.”

The advisor frowns, hands stilling momentarily before retrieving a fresh roll of bandages. You shrug off your Crownsguard jacket and hesitantly finger the bottom of your shirt, casting it aside after a few moments with a huge huff of false confidence. Pretending you aren’t completely shirtless in front of a man, you ask for the scissors and cut the bandages yourself, Ignis helping to ease them off your back.

This is the first time Ignis has gotten a good look at your wounds. Black stitching crosses through most of the red crevices painted up and down your back, the lighter gashes already whitening into scars that won’t fade for years to come. Monica did a good job keeping your wounds clean, assuring that your back heals to the best of its ability, but you’ll be marred for life. The guilt comes back as the advisor takes it all in, knowing full well that it could have easily been him on the coffee table instead of you.

No. He had seen the death coming for him. If you hadn’t stepped in, his role at Noctis’ side would have been over. You had acted without thinking, risking his suspicion growing to your magical secret in favor of his life. Whatever hidden facts you insisted on keeping close to your chest wasn’t higher than a life, and it was that observational note that kept his tongue stilled.

Call it intuition, but he was sure you’d open up when you were ready, and if there was anything he had in abundance, it was patience.

“So how does it look?” you ask, arms crossed over your torso and shoulders rising with tension, the silence doing nothing for your nerves.

Blinking out of his thoughts, Ignis reaches for the salve and uncaps the tin. “Could be a lot worse. You’re healing well. This’ll be cold.”

You tense as the salve touches your skin, the cool a stark contrast to your heated and damaged wounds. “Guess it’s a good thing I got my last beach session in recently. Swimwear won’t really be for me anymore.”

“I don't see why not.”

“Nobody’s going to want to see what my back’s slowly becoming.”

“It’s proof of your strength.”

You glance at Iggy briefly in surprise. “Eh, still. Perhaps in time, when the scars aren’t so prominent. But anyway. Lestallum. I’m guessing you’ve never been?”

Come to find out, to nobody’s surprise, that no, Ignis had never been. No one in the group has, actually, except for you briefly when you were a young teen. You share what details you can, avoiding the when and the whys, and you find yourself relaxing. Until , that is, it’s time to rewrap your torso and you’re fervently insistent on working together so his hands won’t even get the opportunity to accidentally brush against something they shouldn’t.

Rewrapped with your shirt and jacket back in place, you let out a relieved sigh when you exit the caravan. Ignis drops off the supplies in the trunk of the Regalia and soon you’re all heading to Lestallum, the small city of a meteor and a shit ton of heat. It wouldn’t be Noctis and Co™ without getting sidetracked once or twice, so you all roll up to check out the Disc of Cauthess only to find the empire got there first, building a bit of a barricade to prevent anyone from getting too close. Doesn’t stop you all from finding a great perch to snap a picture of it instead, and when a small herd of creatures decide to halt your progress as they cross the road the shutterbug takes advantage of it, even getting out of the Regalia to get better angles.

It’s like an adventure all its own getting to Lestallum. When you finally park your bike and stretch out your hunched form, you point Prompto over to the view from the outlook, his camera already in hand.

“They have cup noodles here,” comes the observation of Gladio, the hint of excitement in his voice.

“Fan?” you ask with a grin.

“Who isn’t? Noct, let’s buy some.”

“Sure, don’t see why not,” comes the prince, glancing at Prompto briefly before following Gladio over to the cup noodle truck.

Ignis watches them go with a look, something you raise an eyebrow at. “Sometimes trashy food just hits the right spot, don’t take it too hard.”

“Just worrying about their health,” is all he sighs out, deciding to chase after them before they can buy too many. 

You decide to hang with the blonde instead of watch the bickering take place by the noodle truck, drinking in the gorgeous view of the Disc and appraising Prompto’s snaps. 

“You really should get into the photography business,” you smile, leaning against the outlook railing.

He beams, mirroring your smile tenfold. “You think so?”

“Absolutely! Not many people have the chance to travel the kingdom. If you took pictures of everything you saw and submitted it to a magazine, I know they’d be popular! Then I’d get the opportunity to point them out and be like, ‘I totally know this person! We’re great friends!’” You both laugh at your pitch change.

“I’ll think about it,” he responds, dropping his gaze to his camera in thought. “Once this is all over, anyway.”

“Well, you definitely have my support, Prompto.” You bump his shoulder with a fist the same moment Noctis calls out. Giving the prince a wave and taking a few steps, you give the blonde a shrug. “Let’s get to it.”

The plan was to head to Leville Hotel to meet up with Iris, but of course, Noctis takes two steps in the right direction then loses himself in the back alleys and marketplace of the city, listening to the troubles of the citizens all the while. It’s during the time you and Prompto are comparing Ignis to a stall keeper’s kid (“I assure you I was not like that,” Ignis keeps insisting) when your name stops you dead in your tracks. Everyone turns their head at the man approaching, crutches nowhere in sight as he steps toward you, lips pressed together and eyes watering. 

You’re rooted to the spot as the world simultaneously lifts from your shoulders and smothers you completely. The odds of crossing paths with someone you had been struggling to mourn seemed too good to be true, and you find yourself rubbing your dampening eyes as you struggle against the thought of perhaps this is all a very lucid dream. Yet as you blink away the blur threatening your vision his face is still there, spreading within your chest such a heavy relief that you find yourself stumbling forward with its weight, lips parting as his name squeezes out of your throat. “Libertus…”

Within moments you’re being brought into a hug, thick arms wrapping around your back and squeezing as those tears break free and fall onto his shirt. You squeeze back with as much strength as you can muster, ignoring the pain of your wounds as you drink in this moment, affirming that this is _real_ , that Libertus is _alive_ , that the universe has deemed to give you a precious gift in a world that has been spiraling into despair.

You’re sure you look like an absolute mess in the middle of that alleyway, eyes red and sobs wrenching from your chest as you struggle to say _something_ to this man that took one look at you and adopted you as his own. His own eyes aren’t much better, but he’s able to sniff back the overwhelming relief consuming his heart at your sudden appearance, wiping the stray tears with the back of his hand and saying, “Six, are you a miracle.”

A chuckle bubbles through the sobs, coming out as more of a strangled blubber as you press your eyes against the heel of your palms. “I should be saying that to you.”

His hand pats your shoulder affectionately before finally looking over and realizing you two aren’t alone. Taking one look at Noctis, his lips thin and you notice something flash briefly across his blue hues before dropping into a low bow. “Your Highness. Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Uh,” comes from the both of you simultaneously, you tensing your shoulders while the prince fidgets from the sudden attention. Eventually, Noct seems to settle on a response and nods. “It was no problem. She’s been looking out for us too.”

“She better be, or she wouldn’t be one of the best Glaives I’ve ever known. And—” he stops, hands tightening into fists and frown deepening. There’s a pause as the air seems to physically shift, heaviness settling within the silence as Libertus catches Noct’s eyes and holds them. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes narrow as Noctis blinks in confusion. Libertus is honest and straightforward, both with words and emotions. Hastily you think back to your past phone conversations with Nyx, before Insomnia fell. Is Libertus apologizing for leaving the Glaives? Does he feel guilty for turning his back on the fight? Opening your mouth to speak, the ex-Glaive beats you to it after taking a deep breath and shifting gears.

“Lady Lunafreya is alive.”

The news hits each member differently. You instantly look to Noctis, who seems to be a more stoic mirror of yourself not a couple minutes before, minus all the tears and blubbering. Gladio and Prompto’s smiles are hard to miss, the blonde patting his friend’s back in comfort. Ignis, on the other hand, seems more thoughtful, fingers reaching to rest on his chin as his eyes peer at Libertus. He allows Noctis a few moments of relief before asking the question that had been on everyone’s mind since that rainy day: “Why was she in Insomnia?”

Giving a slight nod to the advisor, you turn to Libertus. So much had happened in such a short span of time that it was sometimes hard to keep it all straight. With no ways of getting answers aside from relying completely on deduction, having someone who had been there that night, especially someone involved so directly, was a godsend. There were many questions that rushed to your tongue, but you decided to follow Ignis’ lead. The overall picture was currently more important. “We’ve been in the dark since this all started, Lib. I know you left the Glaives before the fall, but you’re not one to stand back and do nothing.”

He sighs, shifting and rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “You’re right. It’s going to be a long story.”

“Good thing we were on our way to Leville Hotel,” comes Ignis.


	12. Webs of Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 2000 hits!! We've hit a milestone!! Thank you all so very much!! We also have almost 170 kudos! <3
> 
> So this is the start of the chapters that have only been looked over by me. The friend who'd been reading these over as my second pair of eyes became too busy, so if there's more mistakes than usual, I apologize.
> 
> I agonized over the ending to this chapter, because it was just totally unexpected and I wasn't sure if it flowed well. Ultimately I decided to keep it (after editing it endlessly, of course). I don't stop working on a chapter until I'm satisfied with it, which is why some chapters can be done within a few days and others can take me a week or more ^^'
> 
> So hey guys, I'm super curious. What first name have you given our Glaive Praesidium? :D

Iris greets you all when you walk into the hotel, a spring in her step as she bounds down the stairs. To everyone’s surprise, she recognizes Libertus and even thanks him for his advice from before, prompting Gladio to bristle in that older brother way while everyone else simply looks at each other in confusion. There’s not much time to dwell on it, however, as Iris leads you to a room she booked for you earlier that day and leaves briefly to grab Jared and Talcott. 

You’ve never met these two, and honestly you’re not even sure what their roles are for the Kingdom, but they say their hellos and leave rather quickly. Having noticed Prompto’s subtle pointing in his direction when Talcott greeted no one but Noct, you pat his back briefly before settling down on one of the beds. Libertus settles himself next to you as the others find their own seats, Gladio being the only one to remain standing.

After a brief moment of silence, hands clasped together tightly, Noctis speaks up. “So Iris, what was it like inside the Crown City?”

“Not pretty,” is her instant response, fingers curling into her skirt as she looks down. “The Citadel took a beating.”

“Not surprising,” you breathe out, leaning back and squinting at the ceiling. “The target would have been the Crystal, first and foremost.”

“But,” comes Iris with a strained cheer, “a lot of outlying neighborhoods made it through in one piece.”

“The empire had tactical targets in mind,” Ignis speaks quietly, as if to himself.

Turning to Noctis, Iris says, “You know if there’s anything else, you can ask me.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” responds the prince awkwardly.

You don’t miss the way Gladio and Prompto glance at each other, the latter dropping his face to hide a small smile. Curiosity piqued, you raise an eyebrow and glance between them before darting your eyes to Iris and Noctis, understanding settling like the uncomfortable silence blanketing the room. You’re not sure who clears their throat, but you decide to take the metaphorical knife and attempt to cut through the thick air.

“So, Libertus. You were there too, right?” 

He presses his lips together. “I quit the Glaives not long before the invasion. The empire used the signings as a means to infiltrate the city, and more than half of the Glaives turned coat when it happened.”

You nearly choke on your inhale. _“What?”_

Libertus’ jaw sets, and you know he’s fighting back his anger. “Our illustrious captain ended up being General Glauca of Niflheim, that bastard. He was one of them this whole time.”

One hand rests over your mouth while the other grasps your shirt right above your thunderous heart. While it may not have been as long as most Glaives, you’d been proud to serve under Titus Drautos. He was coolheaded, a fine leader, and struck that perfect balance between iron fisted and sympathetic. To find out he was the infamous Glauca was like watching your already upside down world flip again.

“The others…” You swallow, fighting down the shake in your voice. “The other Glaives. How…? Their homes…”

“Betrayed them all,” he grits out. “Nyx put him down though. Glauca. He was in the thick of it, protecting Lady Lunafreya the whole time.”

“We owe him our thanks,” speaks Ignis. 

You give a brief nod.

“About Lady Lunafreya…” That’s Iris, hesitating her way back into the conversation. “I kept hearing she was in town. Apparently she left right away, but at least it means she’s okay.”

“Escorted her myself,” confirms Libertus. “She’s safe and sound, Your Highness.”

“Is she here, then?” asks Prompto.

The ex-Glaive shakes his head. “She insisted on traveling alone. She’s tough, she’ll be okay.” There’s a brief pause, then, “She has the Ring, so you will be seeing her again.”

The Ring of the Lucii? Good to know it hadn’t fallen into the wrong hands along with the Crystal. However… 

“What was she doing in the Crown City, though?” you ask, clasping your hands together and taking a deep breath. “My understanding was that she was to meet and wed Noctis in Altissia.”

“I don’t know. Crowe—” There’s a sharp pause as you glance at Libertus, pained gaze meeting pained gaze. “She was supposed to meet and give Lady Lunafreya a gift.”

Glancing down, you press a thumb against your palm as you pick up on the past tense in that sentence, the implications of it. This called for a more serious conversation, once you didn’t have any desire to do in the presence of the others. Taking a deep breath and standing, you shoot Libertus a strained smirk as you announce to the room, “Well, maybe that’s enough for one day. We’ve got a lot to sleep on, and Lib and I need to catch up.”

Picking up on your intentions, Libertus follows your lead and gets to his feet. “It was nice meeting you all. And you, Your Highness.”

Noctis nods. “Yeah. You too.”

Heading for the door and away from the heavy atmosphere that had blanketed the room, your eyes slide briefly to Ignis’ as you step past him. The question in his eyes receives a slight nod in response, and soon you’re heading out of the hotel and sitting down at an outdoor restaurant turned bar for the night, swirling your drink as you scrounge your soul for the courage needed to speak the one question that has been screaming in your mind since setting eyes on Libertus.

“So…” is how it starts, heart thundering in your chest as you squeeze the cup in both hands. “Nyx. Did he…?” You take a deep breath and look up. “Did he make it, like you did?”

Libertus’ lips thin, and he takes a long, deep gulp from his own drink before slamming the glass down harder than he should. The pain practically radiates from his being, and you suddenly know the answer you’re seeking without needing to hear it. “When faced with Glauca, he did the only thing he could do, against power like that. He put on the Ring.”

You’re very glad you were given a plastic cup, knowing your grip would shatter glass.

“He was given the power of past kings.”

“For a price,” you spit out, swallowing down the tears burning behind your eyes.

The Ring of the Lucii was believed to be a harvested piece of the Crystal itself, imbued with the Crystal’s pure and unbridled magical powers. Having sat upon the finger of every King and Queen of Lucis that has ever been, it absorbs knowledge, magical and otherwise, for the next heir to inherit. Something so powerful was cherished and sought out by thieves and the like, but rarely has anyone outside of the royal family ever been able to slip on the Ring and live to tell the tale. Such raw magical power consumed anyone unworthy thirsting for the knowledge it held, accounts stating how the person would be consumed by unnatural flame until they either perished or managed to remove the Ring, and even then that didn’t guarantee the flames being snuffed.

And for those lucky and worthy enough who did pass the test, whatever that entailed, and receive the Ring’s blessing? Every documented account spoke of the same thing – the bearer ultimately had to pay a price. If not their own life, then a literal piece of themselves. 

All in all, it was a death sentence. Even if Nyx _did_ end up walking away alive from its granted gifts, there was no telling what state he had been in, what he ultimately had to sacrifice. Add in Nifs swarming the City and probably rounding up anyone that had fought against them… There was no way Nyx was going to be given anything less than the axe with how clear he had made his loyalty. 

“It’s Nyx.” There’s a wide yet slightly strained smile you wish you could return that makes its way onto Lib’s face, oblivious to the knowledge you currently wish you weren’t privy to. “You think he’d let a little ol’ Ring take him down, when a behemoth couldn’t?”

The exact accounts of what happens to a person who isn’t worthy is kept vague except to a trusted few, so there’s no way Libertus would know just how badly a state Nyx would be in even if he had managed to escape. It takes all of your willpower and more to bite your tongue silent, futilely fighting down the tears that slowly snake down your cheeks.

Your friend keeps talking in an attempt to share what hope he has, to show you that not all of it is lost. Practically bashing his drink into your own and sloshing the alcohol down your front, Libertus raises his glass high. “Don’t look so down and drink! Nyx won’t let us down, and I’ll be meeting up with him again in Galahd soon!”

Determining you were going to break if you didn’t get some alcohol in your system, you down your cup and quickly order another.

~*~*~

You learn a lot that night. Even through your drunken haze, you somehow manage to catalogue all the important bits for you to piece together the next afternoon while you nurse a hangover. Stumbling out of the hotel room you had crashed in with Libertus, you take frequent sips of your would-be morning coffee as you gaze out at the Disc of Cauthess bathing in the early afternoon light, eyes tinged red from a mix of tears and the pounding headache.

Libertus gave you answers and an account of the events that night, but it was your job to connect the dots. Crowe had been sent on a confidential mission, one focusing around Lady Lunafreya. She had failed, being found on the side of a road and well on her way to decomposition, signaling that she had been taken down rather quickly in a mission that was expected to take some time to complete. Knowing that Drautos was Glauca, it was safe to assume that whatever Crowe’s mission was, she was never meant to walk away from it alive. Lunafreya arrived in Insomnia shortly before the signings and somehow found herself in the thick of the internal fighting, Nyx being her bodyguard before Libertus took over. You wonder if so many Glaives turned sides because of Glauca’s influence, being the little bird in people’s ears, speaking the words that tipped already confused and angry people over the edge of irrationality and impulse.

Rubbing your forehead with a sigh, you can’t help but think of how many Glaive missions that had seemed successful really weren’t, and those that were compromised were compromised before they even began. 

No. It was useless to think on it. There was no way to get any answers for that specific puzzle, and there was a more pressing one needing to be pieced together anyway.

The union between Lunafreya and Noctis was a condition imposed by the empire. It was safe to assume that, with Lunafreya’s arrival in Insomnia and the invasion thereafter, the wedding was just a front. Was Lunafreya brought to be a pawn and possible hostage? It would give one possible reason for Crowe’s departure. Get the Oracle out of enemy hands and ensure her safety, removing her as a pawn in the coming conflict. But then, what was the empire’s reasons for holding the wedding at all, especially in Altissia if Lunafreya was never meant to leave the empire’s clutches? Was Regis allowed to choose where it would take place as a show of faith?

_Regis saw this coming a mile away._

You lower your head with a sigh. Figuring out the web of politics and deceit was never something you entertained yourself with, and it was beyond infuriating seeing the plans on top of the plans that had been laid out to get the results you were now living through.

You swallow the last of your coffee when Ignis appears at your side, leaning against the railing with a small can of Ebony in his hands. Heaving another loud sigh, a signal to Ignis to give you time to collect your thoughts, you tap a finger against your empty can. A silence, not at all uncomfortable, stretches between you two as the advisor patiently waits.

Eventually you speak, keeping your eyes directed out to the scenery. “There are a ton of holes, and the only thing I can do is make conjectures and guesses at the possible connections. Libertus wasn’t there for a lot of it, and the person who would be able to fill in a lot of the holes…” Your throat constricts, and you take a ragged intake of breath. “Well. Either way, what happened, happened. Lunafreya is indeed out and about somewhere, doing who knows what with the Ring of the Lucii. If the stories about her are true, then I have no doubt in my mind that she’ll make it safely back to Noctis’ side. She left Libertus to stay inconspicuous and make it harder for anyone to track her down, after all.” Leaning heavily on the railing before pushing off of it to stretch, you finally glance at the advisor. “Report done, yatta yatta. Want more details, you can ask later. Right now I just—” You frown briefly, contemplating your next words, eyes flicking away to hide the grief that flashes through them. “Right now I just wanna enjoy this view.”

Ignis’ lips lift in a smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“For sure. Can you imagine what kind of history that thing has?” Your smile isn’t without its slight wobble as you attempt, and not quite successfully, to switch gears. “I mean, Titan is actually _under_ that thing. An Astral. Just sitting there. Or standing? Is he standing? He’s probably standing. Maybe kneeling.” A forced chuckle bubbles from your chest, causing you to dip your head into a palm. “Six my head hurts.”

“That is what happens after one drinks,” comes the light tutting of Ignis, producing another can of Ebony from who knows where and offering it to you.

“How’d you know I was drinking last night?” you ask, grabbing the can, cracking it open, and proceeding to choke on the strong bitterness of it. 

Taking a short sip of his own coffee, he responds, “Call it a hunch.”

There’s levity and heaviness within that statement, one you cock your head to before lifting your heart-attack-in-a-can up in a toast. “How much caffeine does this small thing even contain?” You raise an eyebrow. “Actually, I probably don’t want to know that if I’m going to be drinking it. Just tell me this: Will I be sleeping tonight?”

There’s a brief pause as the advisor thinks. “Depends.”

Now you’re eyeing your can of caffeine with suspicion. “On what?”

“On a few factors.”

“Are you being vague on purpose?”

“I’d never do anything of the sort.”

Your raised eyebrows are met with a stoic expression. A light laugh quickly finds its way to the surface, and you figure you have your answer when, on the second sip, your hangover is practically nonexistent. Spinning to rest your hip on the railing and tapping a fingertip distractedly against your coffee, that heavy air that wasn’t quite pushed away finds its way back onto your shoulders. 

Isolation and loneliness wasn’t a stranger. Growing up alone with no friends with a middle aged guardian as your only constant source of companionship tended to make one feel like life was a sole struggle. Long tended walls were hard to chip away and fall apart, but that’s the thing about patience and care. Give anything cold enough time and love, and it’ll warm and mold into something different.

It first started with the trio from Galahd. They’d been persistent, determined to break your shell, perhaps seeing something of themselves in the way you closed yourself off to others. Crowe was ridiculously blunt, Nyx always there to smooth over her words and bring some humor into the conversation and Libertus never failing to be the compassionate compass all three of you needed more than you’d all would admit to. They’d tackled your walls in their own way, creating cracks you hadn’t known existed, cracks that were starting to show as you squeeze your eyes shut.

The thing about isolation, is that when faced with true compassion and patience, it tends to slip away like sand in a breeze. It starts with subconscious peeking over the walls to see exactly who is knocking on the other side, peeks through the cracks forming and fingers grazing ever so gently against them. Then it’s the climbing, the hesitance as one looks down to see how startling the other side really is, and before one realizes, the walls are barely taller than yourself, giving easy access to what had been protected. In all honesty, you’re not even sure when it started, and even now you’re still somewhat blind to the fact, or perhaps too stubborn enough to realize, that your walls, reinforced to deal with the presence of Noctis and his friends, had started falling apart. That your tears, burning your eyes and sliding down your cheeks, was being witnessed by your brother’s right hand man and _you weren’t running._

Maybe you were just tired of it all. The trickery and the deceit. Maybe the loss of your friends had pushed you to be irrational, maybe the act was all becoming a bit too much. Pretending like everything was okay when it was the last thing from the truth. Maybe you just needed a cry and you’d be all better, able to once again stand and smile while keeping secrets that could topple everything.

You didn’t know. You didn’t care. Sure, you were aware of the quiet sobs you stifled and the presence, ever patient, by your side. Of the gentle hand resting between your shoulder blades as you desperately take heaving breaths to end this as quickly as you can. There was no alcohol now to stem the tide of your grief and helplessness, your mind muddled not with the haze of intoxication but the haze of frustration and guilt.

So you cry, aware that you never would have stood on the edge of a busy city sobbing your eyes out weeks ago. Aware that you would have stuffed it all into a box to deal with later, even if it tore you up inside. Aware that you would have crawled out of the tent before dawn to give what little relief you could give yourself before placing on a mask, forcing yourself to think of anything else.

Aware that the ice cream Prompto suddenly shoves your way manages to bring a smile to your lips as you wipe away the tears, Gladio’s “I thought you’d never wake up” jab making you chuckle as you poke him in the ribs and he acts like you’ve just stabbed him. Of Noctis, lips pressed together and reddened eyes shimmering in the sunlight. His beautiful blues giving your face a good, probing stare before taking a big bite of his own ice cream, turning away, and promptly bending over with a brain freeze.

Prompto’s arm slides across your shoulders as he says, “So I figured we could take the rest of the day to enjoy the city without Noct dragging us everywhere.”

“Hey! I don’t drag you anywhere,” comes the prince, face scrunched as his brain defrosts.

“Dude, you just run off and we have to run to catch up.”

Savoring your sweet, you allow your bite to melt before saying, “Who’s the one that agreed to go frog hunting?”

“That—”

“And who insisted on feeding a cat some stupidly posh and expensive fish dinner?”

“It was—”

“Cute, I know. I would’ve done the same.” You flash the prince a smile as he sighs and turns away with a smile of his own.


	13. Pun Wars are Fun Wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all that angst and seriousness, we gotta have some fluff and humor, right? :D Well, here you all go!
> 
> I was thinking of so many different angles to keep Libertus around, but the more I wrote the last chapter and edited it, the more I realized that Libertus would run straight to Galadh once he knew the MC was safe. Because he truly does have hope that Nyx will show up.
> 
> 2200+ hits and 180+ kudos, along with over 100 comments! You guys are so supportive and I'm blessed to have such talkative readers! <3

“You could still join us, you know,” you say in the parking lot the next morning, helmet in hand as you give Libertus a heavy look. “Two Glaives are better than one, and who even knows if boats are even running to Galahd?”

“I told him I’d wait for him,” responds Lib, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Now that I know you’re safe, I need to make sure he is.”

When you’d all returned to the hotel last night, Talcott had given Noctis a lead onto the next possible location for one of those damn scary soul weapons. Deciding to head out for it the next morning, you’d all spent the rest of the evening playing cards with Libertus and Iris, swapping stories and learning of the duo’s future plans. Iris would stay put in Lestallum for the time being while Libertus would head to Galahd.

If there was even a slim chance of Nyx being alive, he would wait forever if he needed to.

Letting out a heavy breath, you stare down at your helmet before tossing it onto your motorcycle’s seat and slinging your arms around your friend and brother. “Thanks, Lib,” you breathe out, tightening your hold when you’re crushed into an embrace.

“You stay alive, you got that?” he mutters into your ear, his words holding a weight that squeezes your heart.

“Always.”

Pulling back from the last hug you’ll both receive from each other for who knows how long, he catches your eye and slips on a small smile. “I’ll make sure to get word to you when Nyx shows up.”

“Right.” It was hard to pretend that your words weren’t struggling to be freed of your tightening chest. “Send a raven or something, since your phone broke.”

"We hope to see you again soon,” speaks up Ignis from behind you, the Regalia’s driver side door open as he slightly leans against it.

“I’ll get my revenge next time,” sniffs Gladio with crossed arms. “And get my five hundred gil back.”

“That’s why you don’t gamble,” comments Noctis with a small shake of his head, a teasing smile splaying about his lips.

“Don’t bet on something you can’t win,” Libertus jibes back, receiving a grin from the Shield.

“Should we get going before they start betting again?” asks Prompto to Noct, raising his eyebrows between the two men. “Gladio doesn’t really have much to stake on, once he runs out of money.”

“Once he runs out of _our_ money, you mean?” comes Ignis.

“Details,” is all Gladio says in defense.

“Yeah, yeah,” you interject, rolling your eyes and snatching up your helmet once more, snapping it into place once it’s comfortably set. “You two can bet all you want once Gladio isn’t stealing from our livelihoods.”

Gladio practically scoffs. “What livelihoods?”

“The ones we won’t have if you keep throwing our money away.”

“ _I_ wasn’t the one who rented out a caravan because he couldn’t take a bit of teasing.”

“Wow, _okay._ I didn’t even say anything,” comes a defensive prince, throwing an incredulous frown at his Shield. “And I _almost_ rented out the caravan.”

“Because I stopped you.”

There’s a slight pause. “Details.”

You’re about to quip in on how Noctis is picking up all the bad habits when there’s a pat on your shoulder. “You’ve got some good friends,” Lib says to you quietly. “Keep them close.”

Giving a smile, you respond gently, “That’s the plan,” before snapping down your visor and throwing a leg over your motorcycle. “Alright guys, you could either bicker all day long like toddlers or we can start hunting down this long lost Lucis tomb.”

“Did you hear that?” Prompto snickers, sliding into his seat in the Regalia. “She called you guys toddlers.”

“A fair assessment,” comes Ignis a moment after Noctis blurts out, “ _He_ started it!” with a good old point in the culprit’s direction.

Everyone raises knowing eyebrows.

Gladio can’t hide his smile as he opens the car door. “Seems our little prince needs a nap. Good thing the waterfall is a bit of a drive.”

You have to turn away as Noctis sulks into his seat in the back, crossing his arms and pouting to his shoes. “This isn’t funny.” You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or Prompto, but it makes both of you snort even harder.

“Aw, look at that.” You have no idea how Gladio can keep from bursting into laughter. You’re certainly one quip away from dying on the floor. “Our little prince is pouting.”

“I am _not_ —”

“Children, please.” Oh Ignis, ever the mediator. Noctis huffs while Gladio just snickers and pulls out a book. 

“See you soon, Lib,” you say as you start up the motorcycle’s engine, raising a fist to bump him on the chest. “Stay out of trouble, since I’ll be doing enough of that for the both of us.”

Giving you a smile, he replies, “Yeah, see you soon.”

With a nod from you, Ignis pulls the Regalia from the parking lot of Lestallum, you trailing after him. Throwing the ex-Glaive a short wave as you hit the main street, you’re not able to see as he watches until you’re out of sight.

It’s hard to push the thought of Libertus out of your mind as you zoom across the land. There was no guarantee he’d be able to safely find a boat into Galahd, especially with his history. And if he did make it, and Nyx didn’t show up… You take a deep breath and shake your head. Once all this fugitive and empire nonsense was over, you’d travel to Galahd and talk about the future with him. 

Speaking of the future, your eyes dart to the four men in the expensive sports car. You’ve had a bit of time to think about your breakdown and what it meant. How you didn’t run, didn’t push them away. Somehow, against all of your damn caution and vigilance, this ragtag team before you had settled around your heart before you could blink twice. 

It was damn terrifying. Because if they ever found out the truth…

Green eyes dart frequently to your form in the rearview mirror, the advisor silent as his own mind whirls. Those few weeks you had spent recovering had let him be witness to a major change in your demeanor, and your open tears not 24 hours ago had, if he were being honest, unsettled him. Of course he was happy to see you lower that cold guard of yours and feel comfortable around him and the others, but it left him uncertain. 

He felt more concerned about your secret now more than ever.

Not that he was concerned over whether it was a danger. No, he had never once deemed you as an enemy, and your actions had reinforced his belief. What he was truly concerned about was whether he should step up and directly ask you about what had happened that day at the base or continue to remain silent. It hadn’t passed his attention the way you’d occasionally scrunch your eyebrows at him when you thought he wasn’t looking, or the way you’d dart your eyes away to throw up a shield before turning back to him.

It was bothering you, the silence. Yet something was holding you back from approaching him. Would it be better to initiate, or would it only harm things if he did?

A finger taps the driver’s wheel as Prompto turns, says something to Noctis, and waves to you. 

The waterfall in question is, thankfully, not far from Lestallum, but it does require you five to park your vehicles and hop down a flight of stairs to the wonderful nature below. You make sure to squeeze in some appreciation and awe for the burning rock before you in the distance as you wait for the guys to step out of the car and stretch out their limbs. The Rock of Ravatogh was a mystery to behold even from far away, and you make a note to find time to visit it up close if you’re ever given the opportunity.

A small trek down a trail leads to a wonderful view of a river and a very dangerous and deadly looking snake. You find yourself in that familiar eye wrestle with Gladio before he raises an eyebrow and indicates with a slight gesture to his back that has you huffing in irritation. After hugging the outcropping’s rocky outline like it was your best friend, you’re in an odd situation of eyeing up _everyone_ as they take one look at the grumpy crabs blocking the path and promptly turn to you.

“Just because I can’t bend certain ways doesn’t make me an old lady that’s one step away from breaking her hip,” you sass, crossing your arms and giving a good frown to each guy. “It’s a freaking _crab._ Flip the damn thing over.”

“Flip the damn thing over?” echoes Noctis with incredulous eyes, gesturing to the crabs and then at himself. “Those things are literally our height.”

“And probably twice our weight,” adds Prompto. “Maybe three times. Can’t forget that.”

“Those things can _jump,_ ” continues the prince.

“And we have a Gladio. I don’t see your point.”

That has the Shield snorting in laughter. “Glad to see our princess has so much faith in me.”

You do your best to ignore the hitch in your chest at that nickname. “Don’t call me that. Anyway, because they jump it’ll be easy to get to their sensitive joints, where the shell meets their skin.” You tilt your head to Prompto. “I know at least two of you have firearms in your arsenal. Ignis’ daggers might as well have one with his precision, and Gladdy will be fine.”

“And you?” voices Ignis.

You shrug. “Stay by Gladio. He crab tips, I stab. Not much movement there, right?”

“ _Crab tips,_ ” breathes the Shield in utter amusement.

Prompto furrows his brow. “But doesn’t that mean we have to, I dunno, _allow_ the crabs to jump at us?”

“I have faith in you all,” is all you say as you unsheathe your dagger and give a pointed look to Ignis. “I won’t strain myself, don’t worry.”

Aside from your right arm not having as much strength behind your swings as you’d like, the encounter goes without much trouble. You twinge your back a couple times but, as promised, you take extra care on your movements and make sure you aren’t in direct eyesight of any of the crabs, mostly thanks to Gladio and his hulking size. As you predicted, Gladio’s easily able to stick his giant of a sword under the crabs and flip them over, and since you know exactly where to cut and twist to dismember the poor things, the encounter ends quickly with no one worse for wear, save Prompto who slipped on the rocks and took a quick dip in the river.

“Wet shoes are _not_ fun,” he complains, slipping out of said footwear and frowning at his soaked socks. “Socks too.”

“Should we turn back, grab you some spare socks?” asks Noctis.

Crouching down and taking hold of one of Prompto’s abandoned shoes, you shake it and watch the water splatter. “Wouldn’t this just instantly wet any new socks he gets?”

“Barefoot it is?” comes Noctis.

“Barefoot it is,” sighs out the blonde.

After all five of you refuse to carry around wet socks, Ignis quickly makes his way back to the car to drop them off. A smile remains plastered on your face as you watch Prompto, with a very sad and disgruntled grimace, slide his bare feet into his wet shoes and stand up. Within two steps he’s groaning and you’re rolling your lips to prevent the laughter tickling the back of your throat.

Noctis, after giving his friend a good hard look, pipes up. “Are you, ah, drowning in sorrow there, Prompto?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” There’s a pause. “But yes, I am.”

Ignis steps back into the group and adds, face straight, “Hate to rain on your parade, but, shall we continue onward?”

“Water we waiting for?” you grin, winking as Prompto rolls his eyes up to the heavens. “We’ve gotta keep going with the flow.”

“That one was kind of watered down,” criticizes Gladio, taking the lead and heading for the waterfall.

“Eh, you won’t _sea_ me crying a river.”

Noctis reels back a chuckle. “Like Prompto here?”

Prompto is the last to move, the squelching of his shoes against the rock cutting through the chatter. “Yeah, go ahead. Make fun of the wet footed dork.”

“Hey now,” you chuckle, roaming your eyes around the mouth of the cave. “No need to go off the deep end there, Prompto. It’s just a bit of a high tide for humor, is all.”

“Please stop.”

“Our puns not making enough of a splash for you?” questions Ignis.

“It gives us porpoise in life,” defends the prince, stepping up to the cave and peeking into the entrance.

“I hate all of you,” the shutterbug says matter-of-factly with a hint of amusement, stepping past everyone to slip between the rocks.

Glancing at the rest of the gang with a shrug, you try once more with, “Water we waiting for?” before following after Prompto. 

It doesn’t take very long for you all to feel the chill in the air, like stepping from a desert into the middle of a snowy night. Prompto shifts uncomfortably. “Double back for our coats?”

“What’s the point?” responds the Shield without breaking his stride.

“We did already double back to drop off wet socks,” you breathe, looking around. “And joke’s on you, I already have my coat.” 

Noctis glances at you. “How do you not die in that?”

“Skill.”

“Well,” interrupts Prompto, “looking on the bright side… Maybe the cold keeps the daemons at bay?”

You can practically feel Gladio’s eye roll in his words. “Yeah, cause monsters like warmth.”

“Ah. Sarcasm.” You drop back to give him a pat on the back, receiving a warm smile in return. “But what if they’re frozen?”

“Encased in ice…” prompts Gladio. You can’t help but raise an eyebrow and give the closest wall next to you a good hard look. “Waiting for something warm to pass by…”

You tense as Prompto exclaims, “And then they jump out!”

They do. Not necessarily from the walls you were eyeing, but from the ground in a puff of black smoke. Shifting your weight quickly from the shock and surprise, you feel yourself falling backward, swear word on the tip of your tongue, before a gloved hand grips your arm.

How Prompto doesn’t comment on the impeccable timing you’ll never know. “Aaand there’s our warm welcome!” 

“Six kill me now,” you breathe out, glancing at Ignis as he removes his hand with a small smile.

If this is how this little adventure is going to play out, you really don’t want to continue down into the cave. Yet you have no choice, especially when you step onto a literal slide of ice and find yourself screaming down and into a swarm of more deamons. It’s about that moment, when instinct has you kicking away an imp pouncing in your direction, that you sign your future away. You don’t sign away your life until you’re hunched over with a roiling stomach, feeling like you’re going to vomit while the rest of the gang clears away the rest of the imps.

Prompto is the first to check on you, patting your back gently. “You okay?”

“Get poisoned or something?” asks Gladio a few steps away, arms crossed.

Pressing your forehead against a cold rock, you speak out, “Imps can – urgh – impair your sense of balance because they’re—” You stop and swallow. “Because they’re assholes.”

“Sooo… What?” Prompto settles down next to you, a hand rubbing up and down your back. “You feeling dizzy?”

When you don’t respond right away, Ignis does it for you. “Essentially. Will it pass?”

All you give is a thumbs up, holding up an open palm before waving it a bit, hoping they’ll get the message. Whether they do or don’t, you have no idea, but you’re aware of them making idle chatter as you desperately try to get a sense of up and down and not throw up in the process. 

Once you feel like you’re not going to upchuck, you get to your feet with the help of Prompto and groan. “I hate you, Noctis.”

“What did I do?” comes the instant response.

“Leading me in here. With your stupid adventures.” Pressing the heel of your palm to one of your temples, you squint at the prince. “Don’t touch the imps’ wings.”

You’re a lot more careful with where you step after that, following the path of the others as they carve the way deeper into this Six abandoned hellhole. Noctis is the next to slip down a small cliff and fall right into the waiting arms of an arachne. He sets the poor thing on fire, filling the enclosed space with a scent that almost has you doubling back over. It doesn’t stop you from momentarily thinking, for just a split second, of getting closer to the corpse for the heat the fire gives off before throwing out the idea when your stomach almost nopes into your throat.

When Noctis notes how nobody should ever set an arachne on fire again, you all unanimously agree.

There’s a lot of backtracking and walking in circles, especially when someone slips and falls from the raised part of the path back onto the ground level. There’s always a rock paper scissors match to determine who jumps down after the poor fool, and the ones left waiting do their best to keep from freezing, walking in circles or stomping their feet. You and Prompto have silently agreed to stay as close to each other as you can for the warmth, sometime walking with shoulders touching.

At some point Ignis hands Prompto the dry pair of socks he grabbed from the Regalia. Now that his shoes are less wet and more frozen, there was no risk of the socks joining their predecessor. A part of you wishes you could just cup a ball of flame in your hands to help the team out, and when you casually ask Noctis why he hasn’t done so himself, his instantly avoids your eyes and responds evasively. 

“You can set an arachne on fire but can’t have a small flame in your palm?”

“Not without setting his hand on fire,” responds Gladio.

“It’s not _that_ bad!”

“Well, why don’t I help you?” you shrug, giving a glance over to the prince. “Even if I can’t use magic anymore”—those green eyes find themselves flicking up—“I can still try to teach you.”

Blue eyes squint before darting away, a hand running through black strands of hair before, rather reluctantly, Noctis replies, “I _guess._ ”

“You’ve been relying heavily on putting the magic in flasks, but that can only get you so far,” you say. “It’s great since we can all chuck them at things, but inconvenient and inefficient time wise in a serious one on one battle. And what if you run out?”

Noctis sighs heavily. “I just can’t get it to work.”

Magic was definitely out of the realm of normal coaching. The only one who could really be of help was Regis, and you doubt he ever really had the time to properly teach his son. You and the rest of the Glaives had to essentially trial and error the shit, you more so since you didn’t have a group of people to swap successes and failures with. Your guardian only knew so much fundamentally, but when it came to actually producing and implementing the elements themselves it was do or die. Sometimes literally. You burnt down a whole copse of trees once. Did wonders for teaching you how to call upon ice.

So instead of jumping into a lecture, you simply nod your head. “We’ll figure it out.”

When you finally lay eyes on the tomb entrance, you feel like crying in relief. But when Gladio attempts a stupid knock-knock jokes and calls upon the spawns of hell, you feel like crying for a different reason when the mindflayer makes its appearance.

“Don’t breathe in its breath!” you nearly scream when it sidles up next to Ignis and coughs out a pungent fume. “Noctis! It doesn’t like lightning!”

It’s infuriating, being on the sidelines. If only you could twist better, you’d be able to pull Ignis out of the cloud of toxins. If you could use your magic, you could strike these daemons down or at least distract enough to give an advantage for the others. If you could just not be a wounded soldier, you’d be able to more effectively keep the imps off of Noctis while he stuffs lightning into a flask he grabbed from thin air.

You all make it out in one piece, you tearing parts of your shirt to bandage up a gash on Noctis’ arm, but the damage rests heavily on your mind. Once the prince is all patched up, you run through questions and test Ignis’ basic anatomical functions to see how far along his body is to recovering from the poisons. Prompto and Gladio, thankfully, only received minor cuts and bruises (more so on the bruises), though you’re pretty sure Gladio could be run over by a truck and walk away fine at this point.

Once everybody is stable on their feet, you all open the door to the tomb. Like before, you stand outside while Noctis collects the weapon, and soon you’re all hiking back the way you came. Thankfully shortcuts can be made and the daemons are less, so it takes considerably less time to find sunlight than it did running from it.

“Fresh air!” shouts Prompto, running ahead a few steps and taking a deep breath. “Ah! Nature—”

You don’t hear the rest of his statement as Noctis goes down, hands clutched to his head and breath ragged. Rushing to his side, you place a hand between his shoulder blades and ask, “Is this the frequent headache you guys were talking about?”

“It’s never been this bad,” responds Ignis tightly as Prompto rushes to Noct’s other side.

The prince’s muscles physically relax as the headache passes, his shoulders slumping. He remains doubled over, cloudy eyes blinking at the ground. “What did I…? Where was that?”

“Where is what?” you ask the same time Gladio speaks, “What is it?”

It takes a moment for Noctis to formulate his words. “A whole in the ground…” He rubs his forehead. “Something burning…” His hand lowers as the thought clicks. “The meteor?”

Everyone’s brows furrow at that.

When Ignis asks incredulously, “You saw the Disc of Cauthess?” Noctis nods once, and that seems to be the cue for most of the tension to dissipate. Keeping your hand on the prince’s back until he straightens, you try to make sense of what just happened, but you don’t start the questioning until you’re safely past the now sleeping snake.

“Why are you seeing the Disc?” is the first question out of your mouth as you stomp up the steps to the elevated road. “Or getting these headaches in general? Gladio said every time the ground so much as sneezes you get a headache.” You tilt your head. “Titan’s suppose to be under the Disc though…”

“Messages from the divine?” Prompto offers.

Your brows furrow. “What, Titan is giving you headaches?”

“Maybe,” is what Noctis responds with, clearing the last few steps and heaving a huge sigh.

“And we can’t just show up and ask him what’s up, since the damn empire has the Disc on lockdown,” you huff, rubbing your forehead. “God it’s hot out. I almost miss the ice caves.”

“I don’t,” comes Prompto, shifting uncertainly. “My shoes are starting to defrost…”

“Take them off,” instructs Ignis, using the button on the Regalia’s key fob to unlock the trunk. “We’ll lay them out when we get back to Lestallum.”

Was there ever a time when the Astrals communicated with the Lucis line? You ponder the question as you follow the gang back to town, wishing you could just sneak into the castle’s library and search for answers. Hell, you’d even take a bookstore at this point. Lestallum seemed as allergic to books as cats were to essential oils – as in, it’d just flat out kill them. Granted, you weren’t much of a book nerd yourself, but you highly doubted anybody knew anything about the dang Astrals that wasn’t just spouted information from the Cosmogony.

After meeting the rather eccentric Vyv and promising him different shots of the Disc of Cauthess, much to the delight of Prompto, you debate branching off and asking around for any book vendors while Noctis wraps up telling Talcott the good news. One step out of the hotel, unfortunately, has the prince once more doubled over with head pain, your hand once more returned to his back.

Iris is quick to join you all. “What’s the matter? You alright?”

Gladio waves her away. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” His hand rests on Noct’s shoulder, so you step back. “We oughta take a closer look at this so called ‘Disc.’”

“How?” you question.

“We can use the viewer things!” comes Prompto. “You know, from the outlook.”

Ignis’ hand rises to his chin. “No substitute for being on site, but it would be start. Let’s see what we can glean from Noct’s condition.”

“Why is it,” you ask as everyone starts for the outlook, “that the royal family seems very intimate with weirdness? Especially if this headache thing turns out to be because of an Astral.”

“Never a dull moment with Noct,” smiles Prompto.

“Definitely makes things interesting,” agrees Ignis.

“That’s one way to put it,” comments Gladio.

Glancing up at the sky and noting its orange hue, you wonder briefly if you’ll be dancing with blindness by looking through those viewer things so late in the afternoon, but you don’t have too long to think about it as you run straight into Gladio’s brick hard back.

Rubbing your nose, you scoff out, “What the hell? Why’d you— _Oh._ ”

You hoped to never see the man again, and you feel a shiver – of what exactly you aren’t quite sure yet – slither down your spine as the “man of no consequence” you had met briefly at Galdin Quay turns and says, “What a coincidence.”


	14. A Man of no Consequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead, I promise! I'm moving across country in less than a month, so things have gotten pretty busy. Because I'm going to be super occupied getting everything set, moving, and then making sure everything is settled, I can't promise I'll be able to upload anything until after I'm moved safely (plus internet might not be a thing for a little while). Thankfully you don't need internet to write, so that will still be a thing I strive to do when I have some downtime (: 
> 
> I'm sorry if the fic falls into a short hiatus because of this, but the next chapter is over 7k words, so hopefully when that finally gets uploaded you'll all forgive me? :D
> 
> I rewrote this chapter quite a few times, if I'm being honest. Because Ardyn is such a mysterious character and we never truly got a good look inside his head at any point in the game, I was walking in circles on how to approach the car scene. I ended up liking this outcome the best, so it stayed (: Plus it was unexpectedly hard to explain why Ardyn is so unsettling in words even though he never outright does really anything to cause a fight-or-flight response. Balancing that was hard too.
> 
> Almost 2500 hits and 2 kudos away from 200! Plus over 100 comments! I love you guys, you know that? Keep being wonderful! <3

“I’m not so sure it is,” is Gladio’s instant response while you cross your arms, stepping to stand beside Noctis.

The smile he shows has you narrowing your eyes as his gaze sticks to Gladio before dragging over to you and the prince. “Aren’t nursery rhymes curious things?” The silence that drags as his eyes flick between you two and neither of you refuse to say anything is the very definition of awkward. It doesn’t seem to effect the stranger, however, as he simply continues on. “Like this one: ‘From the deep the Archaean calls…’” You shift ever so slightly as the man moves, gesturing to the Disc. “’Yet on deaf ears, the gods’ tongue falls. The King made to kneel, in pain, he crawls.’”

Prompto glances briefly to Noct before stepping forward. “So how do we keep him on his feet?”

You have no doubt Gladio is one suspicious move away from body checking this guy, a sentiment you share as your fingers hover over the hilt of your dagger. A seemingly random stranger showing up and spouting information that nobody knows except for the five of you? Alarm bells screech.

“You only need heed the call.” Even if the man’s able to ignore the palpable tension in the air, he shows no sign of it as he passes you all to face the view. Whether he’s just stupid or intentionally showing his back as a sign of trust, you keep your hand exactly where it is. “Visit the Archaean and hear his plea.” As if sensing you were about to respond, he spins and stares right at you, a half smile raising his lips. “I can take you.”

You keep yourself facing the stranger while the others huddle behind you. Gladio is the first to speak, intentionally keeping his voice audible. “We in?”

Noctis sighs, clearly unhappy. “I dunno.”

Every slight muscle twitch is marked by your eyes, even if you never break your gaze away from his. 

“We take a ride…” starts Prompto, with Gladio finishing, “…but watch our backs.”

Ignis instantly responds, “Fair enough.”

With both his retainers in agreement, Noctis nods. “Let’s do it.”

You shift as the man gives a slight shrug, throwing the whole gang a smile before stepping into motion. He walks as if totally expectant that the group of you will follow, and the fact that he isn’t wrong irritates you.

“I’m not one to stand on ceremony, but such an occasion calls for an introduction.” He doesn’t even boterh to look back as he begins speaking. “Please, call me Ardyn.”

That name tickles something in the back of your mind, faintly and briefly like the touch of a feather on the wind. Tucking that specific detail aside for later, you keep in step beside Noctis and three steps behind Gladio as Ardyn continues.

“Come with me to the car park. That’s where I left my automobile.”

“Pretty sure that’s where everyone leaves their cars,” you comment, your usual flippant tone laced with seriousness.

“A wonderful observation,” he simply responds, giving himself a beat of silence as you raise an eyebrow. “She’s a dear old thing. Pales in comparison to your Regalia, but she’s never let me down.”

“You wouldn’t be here if it did,” you mutter. “Unfortunate.”

Prompto bumps your shoulder with a quiet snicker.

“So we take two vehicles—a convoy of sorts. Shall we?”

The group glances at each other, you speaking up once more. “I ride separately. There’s no room for me in the Regalia, and I’m hesitant to leave my motorcycle unattended.”

“Simply ride with me, I have room. Besides, I doubt anything will happen to your dear automobile. It will be well taken care of, I’m sure.”

Now your gaze glances to Gladio’s, whose eyes are narrowed to the back of Ardyn’s head. It was possible he could be being vague on purpose, to convince you to tag along with him, but the underlying message was clear: he knew there were others in the city connected to the group. Whether he knew of their identities or not remained a mystery, but it was still more information than he should be privy to. 

Hell, he shouldn’t even know of Noctis’ headaches.

If you were speaking only of comfort, you’d insist on taking your motorcycle. You’d rather be caught dead than sitting even a mile away from this guy, but the closer someone was to him, the easier he was to be watched. He was offering you the chance, it seemed, and it was your job to prioritize the safety of the group over your own convenience. This also put you in a rather precarious position of possibly being a hostage, a danger you were willing to brave. Glancing over to Ignis and tilting your head slightly, you know he’s already thought of all the possible intentions of this stranger and the outcomes of them. He gives a nod, one you return before agreeing to Ardyn that sure, you’ll take shotgun.

As if stealing you into his car wasn’t bad enough, he casually decides that he has the authority to pick the Regalia’s driver. None of you really complain, since he chooses Noctis over, say, Prompto, but you catch the look of apprehension in Ignis’ eyes all the same.

“It’ll be dark in a few hours,” you note, leaning against the side of Ardyn’s red car as you grab everyone’s attention. “It’d be bad if we were caught on the streets at night.”

“Worry not,” replies Ardyn with amusement, opening his door. “There’s an Outpost not far from here where we can take refuge for the night.”

The man doesn’t even wait for a response before he’s waving for you to join him in the car. Sliding hesitantly into the passenger seat, you unconsciously shift to where your back is pressed against the seat and car door – a good way to put as many inches as you can between the two of you and have a good angle for observation.

Ardyn takes the lead, as he seems to do for everything, rolling up onto the street and then falling back to inform Noctis that this “isn’t a race, it’s a chase,” and that tailgating would spoil the trip. You’d disagree, but you keep your mouth shut. Ignis’ expression tightens ever so slightly at the comment, something you don’t miss, as if the thought of Noctis bashing into Ardyn’s car isn’t as farfetched as the man flippantly thinks. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, you file away the questions for later as Ardyn once more takes off.

Why you think it would be a silent trip you have no idea. Really, you should have known better. Of course this man would notice your uncomfortable posture and poke at it. He seems insistent on keeping his presence known, his casual air of control noticeable. “So what brings a girl like you along with a band of dirty – and dare I say – smelly boys?”

Taking a measured breath, you fight down the flippant remark and bubbling chuckle as you answer as calmly as you can, “I was ordered to accompany Noctis as his guard. As a Kingsglaive, I couldn’t refuse.”

“A Kingsglaive, you say?” His eyes flick to you before checking the rearview mirror. “What an honor, especially at your age.”

You tilt your head and hope in vain that the silence has time to settle. It doesn’t.

“Has anyone ever mentioned how remarkably alike you two look?” Ardyn only gives you time to glance over before quickly adding, “To the prince, I mean.”

You curse yourself for responding, for being such an open book. Even if you had been raised within the confines of the palace and trained in royal etiquette, you doubt you’d ever be able to pretend like words don’t affect you. The dance of tongue is different from the dance of battle, steps you’ve never truly been able to take without stumbling. So when you tense, stiffening and going as still as a statue, Ardyn knows he’s hit a nerve, letting a small smirk rest momentarily on his lips as your eyes zero in on his face.

Inhale. Brows furrow, eyes narrow in feigned confusion. Exhale. Crossed legs are swapped, head tilts. Inhale. Trust your voice. “No, nobody ever has.”

“Truly?” There was no way to miss your too controlled recovery yet he rolls on with the conversation like he’s ignorant. “Why, it’s hard to miss. The shade of your hair, the curve of your eyes...” 

You do your best to swallow down the heart attack. “You do know Noctis has no siblings, right? Even King Regis was an only child.”

There’s a slime involved in that smile, that narrowing of the eyes as he casually shrugs. “That is what they say.”

It’s official – you’re panicking. You’re panicking and you hate the fact that you’re losing this battle. Ardyn wasn’t wrong – if only someone was to look hard enough, to know what to look for, the sibling resemblance was uncanny. Enough to spark questions, enough to keep you away from anyone who would notice. Was it a coincidence that he’d bring this up? Did he truly only observe and ask like any rational person, or was this stemming from the unease you’ve been feeling since you’d laid eyes on him? Was he feeding off of your odd reaction, did he unintentionally stumble upon your secret?

Shifting and crossing your arms, you take more focus than you should to regulate your breathing. Questions like these were dangerous to poke at, especially since there was no clear answer, so you crush them all into the corners of your mind and slam the door. Pretend like you have no idea what he’s talking about, like you _aren’t_ the long lost member of royalty that you really are.

Not a foolproof plan, but the only one you’ve got practice with.

“Well, what about you?” is how you approach, changing the route of the conversation. “You do know the Disc is closed off by the empire, right? How do you intend to get us past that?”

“I have ways – connections. Any capable man should have more than a few.” There’s a pause as he glances over at your frown. “Patience, my dear,” he smiles your way with not a beat of hesitance. “If I told you everything you wished to know, I’d be less of a mystery. And we can’t have that.”

“Right,” you mumble with an eye roll, glancing longingly into the side view mirror to the guys. How funny fate was, that almost two months ago you’d gnaw off your own foot before sitting squished in the Regalia when now you’re contemplating jumping out of a moving car to reach it.

The Six must have heard your fervent prayers for the rest of the car ride rumbles on in silence. The overwhelming relief you feel when you finally pull into the Outpost is quickly replaced with an overwhelming dread when Ardyn grandly announces that he’ll be crashing with you all in the caravan because _why not, he’ll even foot the bill._ Volunteering yourself to go get the keys, you take your sweet ass time meandering to the diner, ignoring the fact that regardless of how slow you do the deed, you’ll eventually be forced to return to _that thing._

Pushing open the door to the diner, you glance briefly at the chef before nearly collapsing into the nearest booth, panic and worry crashing through your brain now that you have a little time to breathe. There were so many thoughts fighting for dominance, but the one clenching your heart in a vice grip was the one that wondered if Ardyn _knew._ Regardless of your suspicions of him, he held himself in a way that nearly screamed _‘look at me, I know things I shouldn’t.’_ How’d he know Noctis was getting headaches? How did he know that the Archaean was behind it all? And most of all, how in the world was he going to get you all past the empire’s blockade of the Disc unless he was more than just a “man of no consequence”?

With what little you knew and how much you didn’t, it wasn’t hard to deduce that the man was dangerous. In what way and to whom was still unknown, but something told you it wasn’t just coincidence that you had run into him twice now and that he just so happened to mention your appearance. He was unsettling because you didn’t know his aim, didn’t know how far his intellect reached.

And a person like that was more dangerous than any soldier like yourself.

You more hear Ignis enter than see him, not just because your back is to the door but because your face is currently resting in your hands. Remaining still, you follow his movement as he sits across from you, hands folding in front of him as he studies you.

You speak before he can. “If I have to ride with him the rest of the way to the Disc, I will throw myself out of that damn car and _hope_ that Noctis has shitty enough reflexes to run me over.”

The advisor hates the way a smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the seriousness that accompanied him slipping ever so subtly. “What happened?”

What were you to say? ‘Nothing,’ would be the most accurate version of the truth. Nothing really happened, he didn’t say or do anything that told you anything more of him and vice versa. Sure, he may have _guessed_ at your identity but it was never outright spoken, so that made it okay, right?

Six were you getting tired of all these excuses.

“Nothing, really,” you sigh out in resignation, leaning back and resting your head against the top of the booth seat. “He’s infuriating. He speaks like he’s doing a dance. I can barely keep up.” Closing your eyes, you continue. “You know he’s probably a member of the empire, right? Like, someone high up?” You wave a hand vaguely. “It’s way too suspicious. The empire has the Disc cut off, yet he’s able to lead us there? Unless he’s someone high in the hierarchy, there’s no way we, Prince Noctis’ entourage, could get within sniffing distance of the thing.”

“Too many questions, not enough answers,” is Ignis’ response as you fall silent, bringing up his hands as a perch for his chin.

“Plus he’s freaking _infuriating_ to talk to.” Rubbing your forehead and sitting straight, you meet Ignis’ gaze. “Seriously, though. He just…” You cross your arms with raised shoulders. “And we have to sleep with him? Not—” You groan. “Not in that sense. I’d rather sleep in a behemoth’s lair, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“I agree he’s unsettling.” Unsettling seemed like an understatement. “But it’s as they say, ‘Better to keep your friends close and—‘”

“’Your enemies closer,’” you finish with him, flashing a smile. “Glad we agree that he’s an enemy.”

“He’s definitely not an ally.”

“Yep.” Silence falls as you study his green eyes, downturned as his mind whirs. His whole presence screamed comfort, of _trust. _He’d trusted you to bring back Libertus’ news, he trusted you with Ardyn. There was a trust in your abilities, in your loyalty, in your friendship. It wasn’t just Noctis’ advisor that exhibited these traits but the rest of the gang as well. Prompto, Gladio, Noctis. They valued you as an equal, a friend. Try as you might, you could no longer ignore the guilt and…utter _want_ to spill your guts. To just let the words, the ultimate truth, finally pass your tongue and let judgment’s hammer fall. __

__Maybe it was the fear that if they heard from another party – someone like Ardyn – they’d be less…what? Forgiving? Understanding? You were here stomping around like you were simply a soldier, like you haven’t been lying through your teeth, through your actions, that you weren’t anything more. Like you weren’t harboring a secret that could turn them all against you._ _

__But what was worse, in the end? Nobody alive knew of your secret except the missing princess herself. There was no guarantee that Ardyn even really knew anything, but would you truly be happy keeping your friends in the dark? Keeping _yourself_ in an isolated bubble, even if it cost you everyone you cared about?_ _

__Which was the lesser of two evils?_ _

__Which fear was more heart stopping?_ _

__Which was more lonely?_ _

__When those beautiful viridian hues finally glance up, lungs filling as he prepares to speak, you slam down those familiar barriers as you watch him pause, eyes flicking between both of yours as he notes the emotions toiling within. No. You’re not ready to face this. You want to keep what you have, even if the fear immobilizes you. No, it’s _because_ of the fear that you stand up, throwing a lighthearted comment over your shoulder as you finally turn to inquire about the caravan keys._ _

__The walk back is a different kind of monster as you desperately try to ignore what you’d contemplated. Unlocking the caravan’s door, you take stock of the room and bed space (a bunk bed of sorts, small couch, and a little alcove with enough pillows to make a makeshift mattress) before stepping out and grandly claiming the top bunk, much to Noctis’ and Prompto’s dismay._ _

__Ardyn sends Prompto off to order food, having once again offered to foot the bill, as the rest settle in the nearby chairs. Minus Ignis, who seems content to lean against the caravan and simple observe. Something you don’t blame him for as you tip your chair on its back legs and glance periodically up from King’s Knight._ _

__It’s not until after you’ve all filled your bellies when Prompto goes through his pictures, as he does every night. Being the pest that he is, Ardyn is the first to lean over his shoulder, casually ignoring Prompto’s discomfort as having his personal space invaded as he comments on every picture._ _

__“Well well,” he speaks after a few minutes, a smile painting his lips, “if it isn’t yours truly.”_ _

__Being across from the pair, you can do nothing but raise your eyebrows in curiosity._ _

__“Uuuh,” comes Prompto, fingers fiddling with the sides of the camera, “if you’d rather not be in photos…”_ _

__“Oh, I don’t mind at all!” There’s a certain glee to Ardyn as he appraises himself. “Snap away—for His Highness’ collection.”_ _

__You nearly snort with barely constrained laughter as Noctis pipes up, utterly confused, “Er, what?”_ _

__“You heard him.” You can’t help it. You _have_ to poke fun at this. “For your collection. Gotta have a picture of this beautiful man to look at on nights you’re feeling lonely.”_ _

__Prompto nearly drops his camera while Gladio guffaws so loudly that he falls into a coughing fit._ _

__“Uh, yeah, I’m going to bed.” Standing up and nearly tipping over his chair from the quick motion, you wish the prince would walk with that speed normally as he seems to disappear into the caravan in a blink of an eye._ _

__There’s a few seconds of silence before: “Do save that to the collection, Prompto.”_ _

__The blonde can do nothing but comply as Ardyn smirks and sends you a wink._ _

__You do your best to hide the shudder._ _


	15. The Archaean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! :D Sorry for the stupidly long wait and thank you all so much for your patience!
> 
> Because of the holidays and how the next handful of chapters are suuuuper long, I'll be aiming to update every 2 weeks instead of 1 until my retail job isn't demanding I give up my soul :D 
> 
> Also, with this chapter, we've hit the minimum word count for a novel! This is novel length now and we've barely even begun!
> 
> Even while on hiatus, all of you remained absolutely amazing! This fic has gotten over 3000 hits and over 230 kudos! Thank you all so very much! <3

“Ride with him.”

“Hell no.”

“ _Please._ ”

“Buy me twenty cup noodles and I’ll think about it.”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

An eyebrow’s raised in your direction.

“Gladio. My man. _Please._ ”

“Trying to suck up now? I could get used to this.”

“ _Gladio._ ”

Arms are crossed with a pointed look.

“You mother—” You sigh heavily. “Fine. Oh Gladiolus Amacitia, Almighty Shield of the Lucis Throne and best friend of King Noctis, will you do your loyal fan a favor and save her from this menace? I’m sure you can handle any challenge thrown at you with your ridiculously fabulous muscles.”

Gladio acts as if he’s stroking a beard, letting out a deep hum as he pretends to think. “I believe it’s more prudent for the Shield to remain at his charge’s side.”

“I fucking hate you and I hope you die.”

“Love you too, princess.”

“ _Don’t—_ ”If only your finger could punch through his chest with how hard you poke him. Huffing like you’d just run a marathon and been denied any reward, you run your fingers through your hair as Gladio smirks. “I wish I hadn’t woken up this morning.”

“Dark.”

“That’s my life right now,” you say, throwing over your shoulder, “Dark and full of misery.”

The morning had been going so well. You’d woken up after sleeping like a log, rolling over and nearly having a heart attack as you got tangled in the sheets and almost faceplanted onto the floor. But the best part? Nobody had been awake to witness your failure as a human. The only other person having been left to drool on their pillow was Noctis, something you snapped a picture of for future blackmail before stepping out into the late morning sun and stretching. Prompto had been there to greet you, handing you breakfast as you took a hungry bite.

But then you had to go turn and notice the red car parked beside the Regalia. The memories came back all at once and you’d been left to basically cry, turning to beg Prompto to switch with you only to find him long gone, having picked up on your absolute horror and smartly deciding to bounce when he could.

That’s when you’d noticed Gladio checking out the weapons stall, an unsuspecting target as you sauntered up. And, well, that turned out as well as you should have expected, being Gladio and all. Why would he ever do anything out of the kindness of his heart? He’s the king of sass and, admittedly, expertly timed teasing, not the king of bleeding hearts and the savior of damsels in distress.

Damn him.

That just leaves Ignis. You find him hovering by the chocobo renter, hand on hip as he shifts his weight, gaze not on the actual renter as he instead keeps watch of the general store’s entrance. Raising an eyebrow and sliding up next to him, you mimic his pose as you ask, “How goes the stake out?”

You flash him a side smile as his eyes slide to meet yours. “Uneventful.”

“I’m guessing Ardyn’s loitering in there?”

“Indeed.”

“Gross.” Stifling a groan, you turn fully to Ignis and slap on your most charming smile. “Sooo, I was thinking you should totally switch with me. And here me out,” you add quickly, raising a hand as Ignis shifts. “You’re good at word play. Ardyn likes to play with words. Perfect, yeah?”

The advisor raises his eyebrows.

“Oh. The silent treatment. Fine. I get it.” Spreading your arms out, you adopt a ‘woe is me’ tone. “Oh, here I am, throwing my life around for you and yours, and you can’t even swap car seats with me! I give up everything and you can’t even give up a seat. The Six must hate me, putting me together with such awful, selfish people!”

Ignis’ lips twitch before thinning ever so slightly. “And who would make sure Noct stays on the road?”

“Me. _Duh._ ”

“We first met after you’d crashed, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s because you four were chasing a demon in the middle of the night.”

“Perhaps it was because someone wasn’t watching the road.”

“I was!” you scoff. “Just…not at that mo—It’s hard to see at night! Six, you don’t have to be so angry and loud, I get it!” Pressing your hand over your heart, you say tearily, “It’s gonna make me cry. I have a tender heart, you know?”

His next word is practically dripping with amusement. “Apologies.”

Breaking into a laugh, you feel triumphant as Ignis responds with a smile of his own. “Speaking of driving though, is Noctis actually not very good?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” comes the strained and careful wording of the advisor, eyes glancing briefly over to the general store before returning to you. “He simply…”

“Simply what?” comes the curious and somewhat confrontational voice of the devil himself, arms crossed as he tries to stare down Ignis but instead heaving out a big yawn.

You cover your responsive yawn with a hand.

“Simply needs a bit more practice,” is the smooth response.

“I could get a bit more practice in if you let me drive more.”

“The Regalia’s wheel is always available to you.”

There’s a pause as the prince’s face tenses up. “Yeah, but…”

Ignis attempts to finish the sentence. “Hard to nap in the driver’s seat?”

“No! There’s just, so much to see that I’d miss if I was driving, you know?”

“Right,” you chuckle. “All the scenery you admire with your eyes closed.”

Frowning and rubbing his forehead, he mumbles something about not having any real friends before meandering back to the caravan where Prompto awaits with the prince’s breakfast, having returned from wherever he escaped to earlier.

“I’m the one with no real friends,” you mumble loud enough for Ignis to hear, throwing him a wink as Ardyn struts out of the general store to “officially” start the day. Really though, you suspect he just got tired of waiting for Noctis to wake up, who actually still isn’t functioning at full capacity when you’re ushered back into the cars to continue on your journey to the Disc.

Thankfully, Ardyn didn’t put up much of a fight when you insisted that you’d be cramming into the Regalia instead of hitching another ride with him. Maybe it was because you were already so close to the damn second sun, but it’s not something you think too much on as you strip your jacket the closer you get to your destination, huffing about how damn hot it was with Noctis who still stubbornly refuses to take off his.

Gladio grumbles about it for a good five minutes. “Born with magic but not with brains,” a statement of Gladio’s you wonder may be true as said prince pushes up his sleeves and wipes his forehead of sweat. It’s not until you’re rolling up to the reinforced door of the barricade when you wonder if Noctis had the right idea as you eye your jacket with absolute disdain, knowing it’d be smarter to slip it back on but _really_ not wanting to.

“We’re here,” announces Ardyn as he parks his car.

Noctis presses on the brakes himself. “Better not be a setup.”

The mysterious man turns to give Noctis a small smile. “Have I given you reason to doubt me?”

‘Yes,’ is on the tip of your tongue but Prompto beats you to the punch. “You don’t really inspire confidence.”

“Yeah,” agrees Gladio. “Not very straightforward.”

“What an understatement,” you breathe quietly as Ardyn yells out to whoever’s listening on the other side.

“Hello! It’s me!” is how he starts. “Be so kind as to open up!”

Whatever magical tongue Ardyn has, it works as the doors start creaking open.

“The shit,” is what you react with as Prompto asks, “Wow, that worked?”

“I may not look like much, but I do have some influence.” You and Ignis glance briefly at each other. “Aren’t you glad we came together?”None of you are really sure if you should answer, not that it bothers Ardyn much as he rolls along. “Your audience with divinity lies ahead.”

“You’re leaving?” comes Prompto.

You hope to the Six that it’s true.

“I drop you off at the Archaean’s open door, and with that, bid you farewell.”

Damn how you wish you had a streamer to pop as Noctis guides the Regalia through the entrance. You take note of the airships to your right as Gladio starts speaking.

"I’ve met some weirdos…” he starts, pausing as if he’s unsure how to explain just how weird that weirdo really was.

“I hope we never meet that one again,” Ignis nearly huffs in irritation.

That doesn’t pass by Prompto. “Whoa! Little harsh there, don’t you think?”

“No,” you jump in. “Prompto, dear, you didn’t have to _sit next to him._ You have no idea.”

“Got me there.”

Noctis and Prompto continue swapping comments while the rest of you fall silent. You’re too busy being an owl, swiveling your head in all directions as your heart picks up speed. What kind of ruins will you be seeing here, at the actual Disc of Cauthess? Will you actually be glimpsing the nigh mythical Titan in the flesh? You’re buzzing with excitement and nerves, and by the time Noctis parks the car when the path becomes too narrow you’re all too eager to jump to your feet and run over to the old, small structure in front of you, ignoring Gladio’s quips as you fawn over the ancient and falling apart piece of history.

“This is _fantastic,_ ” you say to no one in particular once Noctis can coax you away and through the crack in the rocks…only for you to run into another set of small ruins, this time running down the whole trail. “I knew there were some spots that still held structures, but these look more like decorations on a road than housing. But isn’t it absolutely mind boggling to think that there used to be something here before the meteor fell?” You’re nearly bouncing up and down. “I wonder what this place used to be! It’s widely believed that Solheim had something built here, but because of how damaged or simply nonexistent everything here is, it’s hard to say for sure.”

“Making sure to take notes, Noct?” asks Gladio teasingly.

“Forgot my journal in the car,” is the prince’s response.

Ignis is your saving grace. “You could learn a thing or two, Noct.”

When you round the corner you find you lose your breath. The path extends into the crater of the meteor as the walls on either side abruptly end, and at the very end of the floating path rests a very familiar coffin.

“Is that what I think it is?” asks Prompto in surprise as you blurt out, “It was a tomb!”

“Didn’t expect to find a royal tomb here,” muses Ignis as you once again blurt out, “It was a _tomb!_ ”

Gladio simply glances at you. “Would be a shame not to grab that power, eh, Highness?” he says as you squeak out, “Is that the _meteor?_ Somebody hold me.”

Noctis furrows his brows at you in slight concern before turning to the coffin. “Let’s just grab it and go before she has a heart attack.”

You jog to the edge of the edge, marveling at the meteor and the gems embedded within it as Noctis nabs the next soul weapon and tags it into his arsenal. Gladio’s just about to call you over before the ground starts to tremble, throwing your weight dangerously over the low edge as you desperately find a good grip to keep you stable.

“Get away! Quickly!” you hear Ignis yell, something you can’t quite obey as the only thing keeping you from going over the edge is you hugging a piece of ruined rock for dear life. Not that it really matters, for a second later you watch the crack form between you and safety. You have but a moment to glance up in utter horror before you’re falling into the void.

You react quickly, running on pure instinct as you throw your dagger toward the cliff face and hope to the Six your aim is true as you warp to it. Crashing into stone and knowing you’re going to be feeling this impact for days to come, you come tumbling onto a small outcropping as debris rains from above. Noctis gives you only a moment to find your footing before his full weight throws you back down and over the edge.

Gripping the first piece of him you can find – his forearm – you’re mustering up your strength to pull him toward you and into an embrace when Gladio calls out, catching Noct’s other arm and saving you both from the free fall.

Noct grunts from the strain of your weight.

“I got’cha!” comes Gladio once again, putting those muscles to use as he works to heave both of you from utter death and back onto the outcropping. Two fully grown humans are hard even for the Shield to bear, but thankful there’s enough adrenaline pumping through his veins for him to get Noctis safely back onto solid ground and for the both of them to practically throw you to safety.

Shaking like a leaf, you stay on all fours as you struggle to tame your wild heart, Gladio’s rough hand still clutching onto your jacket as you fight down hysterics. You don’t have long to process what just happened, however, as movement behind you has you flipping around and promptly freezing at what you witness.

You think you might just throw up.

Titan, the Archaean, one of the mythical and mystical Six that took on the burden of a burning meteor for millennia, is gracing you with his presence. Straightening as best as he can with a freaking _meteor_ on his back and sparking with magical energy, you note the crystals piercing his body and face as his glowing, molten colored eye narrows in on the three of you as his lips part.

His voice is eerie, uncanny. Deep, but not like any sound you’ve ever heard before. Books told of the Six’s unique language that mortals couldn’t learn, and as his voice reverberates through your very bones you wonder just how many people have actually had the opportunity to hear such foreign words.

“What the…” Oh you’re lightheaded. The world tips in a way it shouldn’t as you struggle to stand.

“Goddamn…” Noctis breathes, grabbing your arm and assisting you up before fully facing the god before you. “This is the Archaean?”

“Oh, fuck,” you practically laugh out in awe as the world tips in a different angle.

“Seems we woke the big guy up,” quips Gladio, something you want to smack him hard for. He’s in the presence of a freaking _god_ and he still makes jokes?

Noctis, at least, has the self control to ignore it. That, or he’s too hyper focused on the actual speaking titan before him to take notice. “He’s trying to tell me something… But what?”

“Noct! [Name]!” Now that is a voice you like to hear, one belonging to a familiar darkened silhouette as you turn and peer up the cliff you fell from. “You okay?”

Ignis doesn’t wait for either of you to respond to Prompto. “Thank heavens you’re safe! Is there a way back up?”

Turned away from Titan, you find your world is a bit more bearable to handle. “Does there look like there’s a way back up?” you call up with sass and a wave of an arm.

“There is a path!” Noctis is being more helpful than you are right now as he waves back at Prompto and points to the left. “Gonna see where it leads!”

Gladio waves his own arm. “You two try to get down!”

“Very well!” yells down Ignis. “We’ll look for a way! Be careful, now!”

“You too!” Noctis calls the same time you pipe out, “You guys too!

“What?!” Prompto nearly chokes out as you three turn toward the path and Ignis ushers him away from the cliff. “We’re going where?!”

“Damn,” you mutter as Gladio warns Noctis, “Don’t rush off on your own, huh?”

“Don’t get left behind,” is the prince’s snide response.

“Wise guy.”

“Don’t you know running off and getting us in trouble is his favorite past time?” you ask as Noctis starts leading you two through beautifully but dangerously hot and melted rock. 

Quips are fast as nerves keep you all on high alert, especially as you witness a flock of winged creatures escape overhead. Noctis finds time to poke in a few teasing lines as Gladio sets himself up for a few puns, but once your feet press down on rocks whose heat literally sears through the soles of your boots, words all but dry up – no pun intended.

It gets even worse when some of those winged creatures double back and decide that picking on the poor, overheated, grumpy trio is a good idea. News flash to them – it’s not. Working up a sweat while you’re already soaking your clothing is not a fun position to be in, but you’re all too busy avoiding the worst of the searing rocks – and literal flame – to really comment too much about it.

You’re not sure if you should be absolutely ecstatic or absolutely terrified. On one hand, you’re in the literal crater of Titan and the meteor, something you doubt is far from common. On the other, you’re in the literal crater of _Titan and the meteor._ An actual living and breathing Astral that was calling Noctis here for who knows what reason that caused the quake that put you three down here, even if it was in a place filled with flame and hell.

You’re swaying to the former reason when you all come across an opening to the sky, decorated with those winged creatures dancing through the light. Both you and Noct take the time to admire the view and nab a few seconds of rest while Gladio eyes up the narrowing path and determines that shimmying is possible.

“No room for error here,” he comments as the two of you eye up the drop. Gladio takes it upon himself to lead.

“No room to chill, either,” Noctis says with a bit of irritation, flattening himself against the rock. “Make it quick.”

“Same goes to you, prince,” you say as you follow their lead.

Noctis takes one look down and promptly keeps his eyes glued to Gladio’s form. “Just want this to be over,” you hear him mutter under his breath, something you try not to laugh at.

Why can things never be easy? Gladio’s led you a good distance when tremors start back up, throwing you and Noctis off balance. Grabbing onto his wrist, your vision takes a dip as Noctis speaks for the both of you: “My head…”

Your head indeed. Faintly you hear Gladio say something, but you’re too focused on keeping your wobbling vision and balance as you carefully follow after Noct. Six, is this what the prince has been going through the past few days? It felt like your head was literally going to crack open from the pressure building inside your skull.

You don’t even notice you’re mimicking Noct’s whimpers of pain until the Shield goes, “Noct. [Name]. You doing alright?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, squinting your eyes. “Goddamn, this is…”

It’s more than slow going – it’s agonizing. Each heart beat makes your equilibrium shift, each shuffle of your feet requires careful breathing. And when Titan decides to drop in and say hi by making his own entrance directly across from you with his big ass hand that ominously reaches for Noctis? You’re not sure if you should cry or laugh, and you’re double unsure if you’re actually currently doing both.

Noctis has apparently had enough. “Hey! Titan!” he practically screams at the hand. “What’s the big idea?!”

“Save it!” directs Gladio, practically useless in his position. “Get to solid ground first.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe as you watch the groping hand get closer and closer before it moves and gives you a wonderful view of the rest of the Archaean.

“Faster!” Noct practically pants, and briefly you wonder if he’s going into hysterics.

Gladio isn’t the only one to notice. “Calm down! I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Shit, just…” Six, your fucking _head._ “Keep moving, stay pressed… Stay pressed against the rock…”

When Gladio lets you all know that you’re almost there, you’re sure you’d burst into tears if you weren’t already leaking from the eyes from the pain and heat. But nothing ever goes as it should, for the moment Gladio gets a solid hold on a charred tree branch – was it actually crystallized? – Noct loses his footing. You almost instinctually jerk to grab him, which would have thrown you right over the edge, but thankfully the Shield does his duty and grabs the prince, throwing him to safety before jumping to join him, you not far behind.

“Fuck,” you cough out, turning to the Archaean’s gritted expression. “Fuck you want?”

“If that’s his welcome,” comes Gladio, offering Noctis a hand, “I’d hate to see how he treats intruders.”

“You wanna talk?” Noct quips, rising to his feet. “So do I.”

No he didn’t.

“Glad the feeling’s mutual.” Jerking his head to the path ahead, Gladio takes a step forward. “Let’s move.”

“Six, ah, _fuck,_ ” you mutter as you press the heel of your palm to your temple and put one foot in front of the other. The headache was going away, but not fast enough for your liking.

“I think [Name]’s broken,” you hear the Shield comment, throwing you an expression mixed with strained amusement and worry.

“Astrals will do that to ya,” you strain out, taking in slow, deep breaths to calm your heart as you shake your hands out to settle your nerves. “Six, I need water.”

Gladio waits until you’ve given him a nod before pressing on, keeping the group going at a solid but slightly slower pace. As you all crawl under a crystallized tree, Noctis takes the time to complain.

“I’m sick of this endless walking…” Breathing hard, he rests briefly with hands on knees before straightening right into Gladio’s flared rage.

You take a step back as he takes Noctis by the front of his shirt and pulls him forward. “And I’m sick of your endless whining. Calm the hell down.”

“Get off my back,” drawls Noctis with irritation, seemingly unfazed by his friend’s actions.

Gladio isn’t having any of his sass, but even though he’s brought Noctis to his toes, his voice is more strict than heavy. “Are you a man of royal blood or aren’t you?” 

“Of course I am.” Throwing Gladio’s hand off him, he stumbles to regain his footing. “I couldn’t forget it if I tried. What about it?”

Absently you think Noctis sounds a bit like a child throwing a tantrum, but you hadn’t missed the strain of truth in his statement either.

“I ain’t sayin’ that you’ve forgotten, but you gotta know somethin’: You’re not the only one who’s having a tough time. We’re all on edge.” At this, he glances at you before looking down. You regain that step you lost, although unsure if you should comment. Gladio doesn’t give you time to decide as he continues, voice softer than before. “We Amacitia are the King’s sworn shields. Guard the King with our lives – that’s the way it’s always been.” Brown eyes look back to their charge. “I’ve embraced my duty. And I take pride in it.”

Noctis turns away, eyes downcast. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“When you can’t focus, I focus for you. It’s my job, so let me do it, alright?”

Taking a deep breath, Noctis doesn’t look forward until Gladio’s turned his back to him. “Alright.”

“There’s no harm in being scared,” you find yourself adding quietly as you step up to Noctis, patting his back briefly. “Six knows I’m absolutely terrified. But I’m not alone.” Tilting your head and glancing briefly between the two men, you give a small smile. “We look after each other.”

Gladio pauses a few paces ahead, swiping a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry, but I had to get it out. C’mon.”

Shaking your head with a smile, all Noctis does is grunt.

“And remember,” he adds, giving the prince a pointed look, “don’t rush ahead on your own.”

“Hey, Gladio.” Stepping ahead and tapping his friend on the arm, Noct tilts his head down slightly. “Your dad… I’m grateful to him.”

“Just doin’ his job.” A heavy smile cuts through the awkward tension but it curves into a confused frown as Noctis’ phone, of all damn things, starts piping up with its annoying ringtone. “…Isn’t that your phone?”

“There’s service down here?” you ask incredulously as Noct pauses to fish out his cell. “In a freaking _crater?_ Color me impressed.”

When Noct says Ignis’ name, both you and Gladio step closer, even if you can’t hear what the advisor’s saying. Narrowing your eyes at the imperial airships peeking through the gaps in the rocks above, you go to finger your dagger’s handle only to find it missing. Six, that’s right, you threw it toward the cliff face and it must have taken a tumble to the depths below when Noctis barreled into you. Eyeing the two companions beside you, your fingers curl into a fist as you wonder if there’s any way to secretly tag it back into your hand without either of them noticing.

“Got cut off,” cuts in Noctis, drawing your attention. “But it sounds like we’re about to have imperial company.”

“Shit,” you mutter as Gladio comments, “About to get even hotter in here.”

The Shield takes the lead as you fall back, putting as much distance as you can between yourself and Noctis as you dare as you take a deep breath. Drawing a hand behind your back, you tag your dagger into your armory from wherever it fell to before tagging it into your hand. The handle is so hot you nearly drop it.

The imperial troops that Ignis warned you about rest in front of Titan. As you three step into the clearing, the breeze that catches you has you sighing in relief.

“We finally made it,” breathes out Gladio, wiping his forehead with a hand.

“We still can’t rest yet,” you sigh, wishing more than anything that you could just take a nice, ice cold bath for the next year.

There’s not much time to ponder what the empire might want with Titan before the Magitek soldiers catch wind of your arrival. The Archaean tries to speak in that unnerving bass of his, but considering you can’t speak Astral you do your best to push away the odd sensation vibrating through your muscles as you tackle the robotic enemies.

Whether it be from the heat, adrenaline, or both, you barely feel your back twinge once as you dance through the odd battlefield, setting up killing blows and taking some of your own. Absently you wonder why Noctis hasn’t thrown out a flask of ice magic just to turn down the oven you’re all currently in, and by the time the last soldier drops you wonder if he even has any flasks on him at all.

“Time to figure out what Titan wants,” you huff, sheathing your dagger as Noctis steps up to the Archaean.

“Hey!” he calls up. “I’m here!”

You think Titan would learn by now that none of you have any idea what he’s trying to say. Though, as the first few syllables (or what you can guess are syllables) leave his lips, you’re clutching your head as that migraine from earlier returns tenfold. Stumbling, you feel Gladio catch hold of your arm as you utterly forget how to breathe, screwing your eyes shut from the pain.

“What the hell is it you want?” Noctis manages to speak once Titan is done with his blabber, the pain trickling away as the Titan’s silence continues. “Quit screwing with my head!”

If you weren’t worried that your brain might pop right out of your skull, you’d mention that Noctis probably shouldn’t be issuing demands to a creature that could swat him away with a flick of a finger. The incentive to laugh is almost palpable as Titan seems to guess what you’re thinking, winding back a fist and breaking rock as it heads straight for Noct.

You shouldn’t have any more adrenaline on reserve, but you’re proven wrong as the headache is pushed to the back of your senses as you rush forward, screaming out his name as you watch him fall to a large, flat rock below.

“Shit shit shit!” Pacing at the edge as Noct warps to safety, it’s like the world’s time slows as you take in his miniscule form and the colossal size of Titan before him. 

“We need to get down there!” There’s palpable urgency in Gladio’s words.

Glancing at him with lips pressed so tightly together they’re probably white, you flick your dagger up and down as you heave in a breath. Damn the fates for putting you in these tight situations, damn the fates for playing you like a chess piece.

“Find a way down,” you find yourself saying with an air of calm resignation, feeling it settle within every bone in your body as Gladio furrows his brow.

“What—” is the only thing the Shield has time to say before you’re jumping off the edge and warping to Noct’s side.

He’s a lot more intimidating closer up, the Archaean. Especially when his foot is falling to squash you like a bug. Your sudden entrance throws the prince off guard, but a shout from you has him throwing his sword up in defense. Tagging out your dagger for a polearm, you cross it over Noct’s weapon as you channel the barrier through the steel, encasing you both and reinforcing your defense. The weight and pressure of Titan’s foot has you falling to one knee, but thankfully the combined efforts of you and the prince manage to misdirect the weight and deflect the foot altogether.

Throwing said barrier down, you tag out your polearm for a handgun, infusing the gunpowder within with magical ice residue, set to explode when the bullet lands. Taking a few shots at the bottom of the foot Titan once more lifts up, you realize it’s doing shit as death falls once more. Pushing Noct out of the foot’s path, you tag in twin swords as you prepare to throw up another barrier.

You don’t get to that step, however, as Gladio tackles you out of the way a moment before the foot makes impact. Groaning in surprise and pain as your forearms crash into rock and your back screeches from the rough contact, you cough as you struggle to your feet.

“Gladio—”

“You both alright?” he interjects.

“What’re you—”

“This ain’t gonna work!” he interrupts again, running out of the way as the rocks at the edge crumble. “We gotta run!”

“Best advice you’ve given all day,” comments Noctis, running over to you and grabbing your forearm. “You alright?”

Pressing a hand to your heart, you tag bag your swords and nod. “Just run. I’ll be right behind you.”

So he does. Gladio takes the lead as you all dash madly and desperately to safety. Titan doesn’t appreciate this, not one bit. He’s determined to take Noctis out, but you’re determined to defy him at every turn. As his fist targets Noct, you warp ahead and yank him back a moment before the gigantic hand creates its own crater where he’d been standing. 

“Warp ahead!” you direct, nodding to Gladio. “I’ll be right behind you!”

“How—”

“Just do it!” you scream as you push him forward with all your might, dropping to the ground and, thankfully, avoiding the fist of death by mere inches. “Go!”

You’ve never danced like this before. Hell, you weren’t even sure the Astrals truly existed until today, so why would you ever prepare to be facing one? You hate how close each fist gets to either of you, but Gladio does his job fantastically in securing a route. As he helps Noct jump up to higher ground, you simply warp to it and do what you can to help the big guy up himself, Titan giving you no seconds to breathe as he slams his palm on the ground a moment after Gladio makes it to safety. If either one of you had been one second slower, death would’ve been a given.

“Don’t stop!” yells Gladio as he jumps to his feet. “Run!”

“Go go go!” you join in, pulling Noct to his feet and pushing him into a run. “Go!”

“He just won’t quit!” yells the prince as he takes one glance back and takes off.

“Wonderful observation! Less talk, more running!” you cry as the hand decimates the path behind you, mere two footfalls behind.

“I’ll hold him!” comes Gladio as he stops suddenly, tagging his broadsword to existence and meeting the hand head on. “Get clear!” 

You manage to jump behind him a second before the hand greets steel.

“Gladio!” There’s heavy worry in Noct’s voice as he turns around, but you grab his shoulder and deftly spin him around.

“Hurry!” you hear Gladio call as you point to the clearing beneath you and scream, “Warp!”

How your or his heart hasn’t given out yet you’re not sure, but you follow him down and stare daggers at the hand that gets through Gladio’s defense. Hoping to the Six that he’s okay, you once more pull out your twin swords and direct Noctis to defend.

This time instead of above as you expect, he swipes from the side, breaking through your barrier and throwing you both down and to another rock face. Gasping for breath – feeling a barrier break is more of an internal shattering than anything physical – you once more struggle to your feet and step next to Noctis.

“I’m not going to take any more of this crap,” growls Noct as he grabs your arm to steady you.

“There isn’t much we can do,” you pant. “Even if we could get good hits in, his skin is too tough to break.”

“We have to try!” he argues, this time being the one to alert and direct you into a defense.

As the hand slams onto the ground and stays there to support Titan’s massive weight and shift in balance, you pant as your entire torso screams with agony. “Maybe…” Stumbling, you shake your head. Noctis couldn’t control the elements without a flask, and you don’t have the focus to imbue anything but your own weapons with magic at the moment. “Shit…”

Oblivious to your inner turmoil and helplessness, Noct hammers away at the hand Titan uses to steady himself after each successful defense. Using all of your energy to keep you two from dying, your swings are pathetic as you use Titan’s resting hand to take a breather more than taking the time to futilely stab any one of your weapons through his thick skin. 

Breathing heavily, you don’t even notice the two’s arrival until Prompto pats your back. “Miss us?”

“Apologies,” is what Ignis chooses a second before you throw him to the ground to avoid a swipe of Titan’s.

With more players on the field, the Archaean takes to using his arm more than a single hand, covering more ground and increasing his chances of hitting one of you. To make things even more confusing and worse, suddenly the empire starts throwing some sort of Magitek spears at the Astral. An odd sense of triumph flits through your gut as you realize that now it’s the Titan’s turn to be attacked from all sides.

Gladio slides into the battle as you warp to Ignis, ignoring the way his eyes widen. “Ignis! This is futile!” You duck out of the path of a flying rock as Titan keels forward, crackling red energy flitting across his being. “His skin is too thick! No blade can pierce it!”

“We’re all here?” you can hear Noctis calling, stepping forward with a fresh air of bravado and confidence. “Let’s do it.”

It’s a morale boost, having the gang back together. You’re fighting pain with each step and you’re damn near running on stasis, but each time Titan swings for a strike, you’re there to push your friends away or defend them with a barrier. With you purely on defense, the boys fill in the role of offense, swinging and shooting at the same points on his arm and hand, hoping that the next swing with crack Titan’s hard skin.

The moment Ignis starts directing you all in coordinated attacks you know he has a plan, one you pick up on as he hands Gladio a flask filled with ice. Running up to the advisor, you breathe out heavily, “I can concentrate it.”

“What?” 

“Do you have an extra?”

Nodding, he fishes out the last flask and places it in your hand. Doing your best to ignore the trembles and fighting around you, you press your fingertips against the glass and focus, frowning as you take in just how clumsy Noctis really is with magic. Instead of weaving in directions within the magic, he just poured pure magical energy within the flask and called it good.

This makes your job much easier.

Magic was more complex than many liked to believe, apparently including the heir to Lucis himself. The best way you could describe your relationship with magic was that it was energy, and the will to make it tangible and the result of it is what people described as magic. The idea was that if you molded the energy to your unique will and had the focus, skill, and determination to do so, it would do what you want. A good example was Crowe’s beautiful fire storm during the mission that Libertus broke his leg on. First she had to will the fire and to _be_ , then direct it on what to _become._

Briefly you realize that that was the last time you’d ever gotten to fight with your family.

There were tons of restrictions and holes to the theory and you didn’t always get the results you intended, mainly because magic was complicated and bratty, but you’d been experimenting with it enough to know that this specific plan had a good chance of working.

“Something I learned in the Glaives,” you speak as you take the pure form and work with it, “is that because all of our magic comes from one single source, it can sometimes talk to itself, especially a pure version of it.” And so, if you can direct the magic energy in this flash to cling onto Titan and Titan alone, it should then whisper those intentions to the pure, raw energy within the other flasks. “We can then up our chances to maximize damage and minimize collateral.”

Ignis gazes at you with utter awe and intrigue, but because Titan doesn’t like anyone standing still for more than a couple seconds, you find yourselves quickly jumping away from danger. Because of Noctis’ utter laziness in his magic, there’s no lingering will you have to circumvent aside from ‘be ice.’ So when you shout to the party that you’re ready, you reel back and throw the flask with all your might, hoping that your addition to the plan works.

It does. Like a charm. As the blizzard explodes into the air, you watch with a smile as it implodes just as quickly, clinging to Titan’s arm and digging deep into his skin. As the other flasks shatter and the energy picks up on the intentions, you watch as the Astral’s arm becomes nothing more than glorified ice and snow.

And with Noctis’ rage filled strike, it shatters like glass.

With one arm still balancing the meteor on his back, and his legs and feet far beneath the battle platform, you all breathe out a sigh of relief.  
Titan has lost.

“Hey,” heaves Noctis, hands on knees as he fights for breath. “We all still here?”

“Yep,” answers Gladio, wiping his hands on his pants. “Still here.”

“If a little battered,” add in Ignis.

Sighing heavily, Prompto asks the question you’re all thinking: “Does this mean it’s over?”

Titan would like to say no. Which he does. Grumbling with strange words, his struggle to right himself with a missing arm causes your footing to shake, nearly throwing you off balance. 

“What—?!” you hear Noct exclaim, the exasperation more than a little heavy. “What is it now?!”

“What is he doing?” questions Ignis.

“He’s a freaking Astral, why does he do anything?!” you practically scream out in irritation as Prompto warns out, “He’s winding up!”

You all brace yourselves, you and Noctis stepping forward with weapons on the ready as Titan starts glowing, yelling out in rage or pain you can’t tell. The two royals in the party suddenly stumble back, hands clutching heads as Titan shares one final imagine – Lunafreya Nox Fleuret bowing to the Archaean.

It disappears as quickly as it comes, Noctis staring intently at the ground as he speaks out, “That was…”

“Lunafreya,” you breathe.

“You spoke with her?” he asks to the Titan as your hand rests on his upper arm. “That’s why—”

The ground shakes, throwing you both to the hard rock face as Titan’s golden glow intensifies, enveloping him until you can no longer face him. Then it winks out, leaving a gaping, empty crater in his wake.

Even the meteor was gone.

There’s a silence that settles over the area as if everyone is holding their breath, not quite believing what they’d just seen. Shuffling carefully to the edge of the rocky platform, you peer down into the crater to the dark depths below. “He’s gone,” you speak incredulously, shaking your head and turning to your companions. “Just…gone.”

“That was—” But before Prompto can finish whatever he was about to say, the earth starts creaking, lava bursting through cracks forming along the ground as you all group up.

Backs practically pressed against each other, heads swiveling for an exit that doesn’t exist, the tension wracks up as the heat becomes nigh unbearable.

“Doesn’t get much worse than this,” comments Gladio in frustration as the lava continues to sputter and spew, landing dangerously close to your already burnt and battered shoes. 

“What a wonderful way to go,” you spit out, nerves practically shot. You were running on empty. “We overpower an Astral only to die from lava.”

“We aren’t dying here,” responds Ignis, turning only to throw up a hand from the sudden gust from an engine. A Magitek engine. “The empire!” he practically sighs out in frustration. “Now?”

Who you see beyond the opening doors make you want to toss yourself into one of those pools of lava that are getting closer by the second. 

“Fancy meeting you here!” he calls from his perch of safety, peering down with amusement.

“Kill me now,” you utter.

“It occurs to me,” he continues, straightening, “that I never formally introduced myself!”

You want to smack that smile off his irritating face.

“Izunia.” Placing a hand on his chest, he speaks his full name: “Ardyn Izunia.”

Ignis recognizes that name instantly. “Imperial Chancellor Izunia?”

“At your service!” confirms the man – the Chancellor – as he throws his arms wide. “And more importantly, to your aid.”

Hell, if you didn’t like him before, you _definitely_ don’t like him now.

Taking note of all your apprehensive faces, he assures, “I guarantee you safe passage. Though you’re always welcome to take your chances down there.” He inclines his head as you all remain silent. “Buried among the rubble, is it?”

You all turn to each other, unhappy, resolute. Knowing the answer but wishing there was another option. Ignis speaks for all of you. “Dying here is not an option.” Turning to the prince, he adds more calmly, “We have no choice, Noct.”

Noctis grimaces. “I know.”


	16. Truth from the Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday!! This year is almost over, and I just want to thank all of you wonderful readers for everything you've done. For putting the time in to get this far, for leaving me comments that get me smiling for days. You all are a light in my day <3

It’s a tense and exhausting ride back. The belly of the airship is completely empty, void of even chairs. This tells that it exists to transport either luggage or Magitek soldiers, although you doubt anyone truly cares as you collapse into the farthest corner, as far away as you can manage from the Chancellor leaning casually against the hull’s wall.

Adrenaline sizzles from your veins, sweat cooling your skin as you lean back and close your eyes. There was so much to process, so much to contemplate, so much to say in the privacy of the group that you all remain relatively silent apart from the occasional comment here and there.

Not even Izunia tries to stoke conversation.

No one settles beside you, and the calls to make sure you’re still alive are few and far between. You have suspicions, negative and depressing ones, but if you were being honest with yourself, you just feel numb. Maybe it was from the never ending adrenaline, or the fact that you’re scraping the bottom of the barrel and feeling the effects of stasis, or maybe because you’re just so physically exhausted that you don’t have the capacity to do anything but hover between the edges of sleep and wakefulness.

Prompto helps you to your feet when the airship touches ground, engines remaining on as the Chancellor bids you farewell and good health. Gladio is the first to recognize your surroundings, leading you all down the relatively short path that has you all stumbling into Wiz Chocobo Post.

Wiz takes one look at all of you and offers up the caravan key on the house. Not even Ignis has the energy to insist otherwise, instead opening up the caravan, kicking off his shoes, and collapsing onto the couch. All of you aren’t far behind, shedding as much of your dirty clothes as you can before finding the nearest pillow and winking from existence for the next handful of hours.

The stars are still out by the time you resurface to the land of the living, groaning as you feel every muscle in your body ache and scream as you shift. When you go to bend is when you have to swallow down the yelp of pain, back searing with unnatural heat as you stumble to the small bathroom, close the door, and lift your shirt.

Your bandages are caked in dried blood. It’s not even necessary to remove them to know you’ve opened more than one deep, still healing wound. Leaning your forehead against the nearest wall and biting your bottom lip, you heave in a deep sigh before quietly stepping out into the crisp, cool night air. After the day you had in hell, it’s like being dropped into a bucket of ice cold water. 

You want to steal the shower, but you have no idea if your back could handle it. More than likely you were going to have to towel bathe yourself to avoid putting yourself in shock and possibly damaging your back further. Moving to shuffle over to the Regalia only to be greeted with an empty space, you groan and turn instead to the outdoor dining tables. Stopping abruptly, you take in the form of Ignis silently leaning against Wiz’s building, usual getup replaced with unfamiliar yet casual clothing, arms crossed and head turned up to the stars above.

There’s a singe in your heart that tells you to turn away, but you resigned yourself to the future the moment you jumped off that cliff after Noctis. It doesn’t stop you from approaching hesitantly, hands wringing together as your gaze takes in the moon bathed advisor, appreciating the way the silver light makes his damp and unstyled hair shine and his clear green eyes twinkle as they slide to yours through his bangs, glasses hanging on the neckline of his button down shirt.

Who knew someone could look so different with just a hairstyle change? You almost miss the stutter made in your already heavy pulse.

“[Name],” he greets quietly.

“Ignis. Gotten enough rest?”

“As much as I can, for the time being.” There’s a pause as he averts his eyes, dragging them across the forested scenery before resting back onto you. “I’m surprised to see you up.”

“We landed here mid afternoon and crashed not long after. Dawn’s probably not far off. I think it’s the most sleep you’ve permitted me to ever have.” There’s a small smile from the advisor that coaxes one from your own lips, but it’s wobbly at best and falls within seconds. “I need your help, with my back.”

There’s a small, strained intake of breath. “I should have looked at it when we landed.”

“No! Don’t— We were all exhausted and could barely keep our eyes open.” You shake your head, hating the one sided fear and uncertainty that made this conversation feel like you were walking on eggshells. “The Regalia’s gone, but I’m pretty sure Wiz might have some medical supplies.” You pause and press your lips together, glancing away as you take a step away. “I’ll go see if Wiz is awake.”

“He’s in the stables,” comes the soft voice of Ignis, pushing himself off the wall and gesturing to where the chocobos slept. “I’ll accompany you.”

It’s wasn’t so much a statement as it was a question. Viridian eyes drink in every shift in your muscles, every nervous tick and hesitance as you nod, shifting away awkwardly yet setting a solid pace. He remains quiet as you poke your head into the rather smelly stables, watches as you approach Wiz with a carefully hidden vulnerability, says nothing as you gesture for him to follow as the bird keeper leads you into his home, offering up his larger bathroom with the first aid necessities as he roots for any clothes that could fit you, casually saying that you can leave your dirty clothes and he’ll wash them later.

The advisor follows as you lead him into the bathroom, following your pointed nod to the mirrored cabinet as you close the door and sit on the toilet lid, fingering the edge of your filthy, ash encrusted shirt as he sets out a roll of bandages, general antiseptic spray, scissors, and even a suture kit out on the sink counter.

Noticing your apprehensive look at the additional kit, Ignis is quick to say, “Hopefully we won’t need this.”

“Hopefully,” you sigh, spinning to straddle the toilet, removing your shirt and holding it close to your chest as Ignis settles down behind you, slipping his glasses back on before gently cutting and removing the stiff bandages.

“Monica would give us quite a scolding,” he mutters, running the washcloth under lukewarm water and getting to work on cleaning the blood coating your skin. “We should have been more careful.”

“How were any of us to know that Titan wanted to rumble?” you ask quietly. “I’m glad I was there. It’s better to be a part of the action than standing on the sidelines not knowing if my frie—” You stop, breath catching in your throat as you wonder if you even have the right to call any one of them that word anymore. If you ever did at all. “Well, better than not knowing.”

Ignis takes a beat of silence before settling on his next words. “We are still your friends.”

You tense, and not just from the pain the towel sends through your aggravated wounds. Do you pursue this train of conversation, or do you divert, like you’ve done your whole life? “Friends don’t lie to each other.”

You jumped knowing what future awaited you.

Ignis doesn’t respond until he’s satisfied he’s cleaned your wounds the best he can. “I’m sure you have good reason.” Stepping out into the small hallway, he moves the set of clothes and towel Wiz had placed outside on the edge of the bathtub, grabbing the bloodied washcloth as he leaves with, “I’ll be right outside. We can continue this once you’ve washed.”

Left alone in silence, you stare for a few beats at the closed door before shucking off your dirty clothes, nerves and anxiety twisting your gut. Right, leaving the guilty liar alone with her tumultuous thoughts was totally a good idea, Ignis. Let her run around until there are no walls left to hide behind, until she’s so exhausted that she can’t even beg for forgiveness.

You’d set yourself up to it, though. Being angry over your own actions wouldn’t change what you’ve already done. Burying your face in the wet towel, you swallow down the sob clawing at your throat and instead use the nervous energy to clean yourself. Rhythmic swipes peel away dirt, ash, and grime, revealing new cuts, bruises, and burns as you go. Once you’ve scrubbed yourself red, you turn on the faucet and stick your head under the rushing water, teasing out the filth gelling your hair.

It’s like a foreign feeling, your hair free of dried sweat and ash. Brushing your fingers through your now silky hair, you give yourself a moment to enjoy the feel before stepping into your borrowed pair of pants. Khakis, a bit too big and long, but nothing the belt and sleeve rolling couldn’t fix. The plain green t-shirt you hold up to yourself, noting how it’s going to hang off your shoulders a bit and just be baggy in general. You know you have no room to complain, but you can’t stop the small sigh that escapes you nonetheless as you press it close to your chest and move to tap lightly against the door. 

Your fist instead hovers centimeters from the wood as your chest hitches. Once you called him back, there would be no more stalling, no more meager attempts at escape. Your walls were already crumbled, your lies practically thrown onto the table. There was no telling what he’d do with the knowledge you knew you now had to share. Would he shun you, forgive you? _Should_ he forgive you? You had no control of the circumstances of your birth, but the lies, the diversions, the half-truths?

Once you tapped on this wood, the illusion of friendship would vanish.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing down the anguish, you rap your knuckles against the door and hope your voice is steady. “I’m as decent as I’m going to get without my back wrapped.”

If it was anyone but Ignis you’d think it a little creepy how long he’d just been waiting literally right outside the door. But as a Scientia you knew that being close enough to hear any ramblings that could give a potential enemy away was his job, to keep friends close and enemies closer. 

Deep down, you knew it was because you were hurt, fragile in more ways than one, and he’d been waiting outside that door just in case. An accidental slip or the hints of a sob, he wanted to be available. 

_Because that’s what friends do._

And it _hurt._

Still finding it prudent to knock gently first, you’re already positioned back on the toilet when he steps in. Shirt pressed to your chest, you turn to watch as he glances briefly in your direction, the ever perfect picture of a gentleman as he turns swiftly to grab the antiseptic spray and, surprisingly, a box of large adhesive patches from the first aid kid.

Settling back into position, he shakes the antiseptic as he muses, “Only the deepest wounds opened, and only parts of them. The ointment Monika gave us has done a wonderful job of helping you heal.”

“That’s good,” you say, wishing you could take a look yourself.

“This may sting,” he warns a moment before the chilly liquid assaults your nerves, causing a violent shiver to run down your spine. You’re able to note, however, that the cold touch of hell is only sprayed in three patches on your back. A good sign, all considering.

“No more bandages?” you ask as he starts peeling the protective paper off the first adhesive patch. At his confirmation, you groan and mumble, “Wonderful time to not have my damn bra.” Maybe you’d wrap yourself for the support, though you doubted you’d be running anywhere anytime soon, let alone getting into any sort of fight.

Then again, who knows if the gang – if Noctis – would want you around, after all is said and done.

Making sure his back is turned, you slip your oversized shirt on as Ignis packs up. Absently you realize how much you’d gotten used to having bandages wrapped around your torso as you feel the fabric brush against your exposed skin. Fighting down the urge to stretch at the lack of restriction, you instead watch Ignis return the kit to the cabinet and turn to you, gaze catching yours.

Eyes holding the weight of all the questions you knew he had, the weight of your entire world, a part of you wanted to question why he was still so _patient._ Still he waited for you to speak first, like he hadn’t watched you throw magic around not twenty four hours before, like it wasn’t easy enough to fill in some of the gaps in the puzzle and ask the right questions to figure out the rest.

It’s hard to keep his gaze and soon you have to break from it, dropping your eyes down as you fill your lungs. “I know,” you say with defeat, resignation. “I know. Walk with me?”

He does. Three steps behind, he follows as you step back outside and to the trees beyond, stepping past the caravan and sleeping inhabitants as you do. Would it be wiser to wait until the rest of the gang was up and active? Hell if you knew, but Ignis was to evaluate any potential threats, to be the first line of defense and shield the prince from any danger before it reached him. Before it became Gladio’s job to handle. Perhaps it was prudent for him to hear your story first, to process and contemplate how the others would react.

Perhaps he was driven instead by curiosity and, above all, concern. Concern in the way you carried yourself, barefoot, through the trees, the way you kept your eyes down and palms pressed together. Concern in the way your eyes wavered every time they caught his gaze, the way you seemed to struggle with every breath as you spoke.

Concern in the way you seemed only a light push away from tears.

You don’t wander far, the faint lights from the Post still visible through the trees. Leaning against the closest tree, you press your sweaty palms against the rough bark and take a deep breath, heart pounding heavily in your chest. “No matter what you decide, I’ll accept it. I can grab my metaphorical bags and go if you deem it necessary.” Was it sad knowing that he wouldn’t force you down that path, simply because of _what_ you are? That’s the price of royalty, you supposed. “How much…” You sigh, feeling your throat tighten. “How much have you figured out?”

The question you’ve been dying to ask, the question that’s been hovering between you two since you woke up – now out in the open, now finally spoken. Ignis’ eyes rest heavy on yours as he debates his words. “All I know for sure is that you can still use magic.”

“There’s many implications to that,” you utter into the quiet night. “I could simply be special, keeping the magic somehow in some sort of loophole. But then why keep it secret? I could be a spy, working for the empire, even though nobody but the Lucis line has the power to command the Crystal and its magic. At least that we’re aware of.” You tilt your head. “Knowing that the possibility of danger existed, you remained quiet. Why?”

Viridian eyes dip as lips thin. Even though you’ve proven time and again that you can take anything thrown at you, he’s unable to shake the gut feeling that he should choose his words with care. “Because,” he speaks softly, slowly, “you’ve never hesitated to put us first.”

If there was any response you had prepared for, it wasn’t that. You’re visibly taken aback, brow furrowing and eyes widening before dropping to the cool dirt below. It’s a few seconds before you respond, sounding defeated as you utter out, “It’s my job.”

He knows you’re deflecting. Your orders were to only protect the prince. Prioritizing anyone above him should have went against those orders, and yet you’d never hesitated to value everyone’s lives equally. Add on the distant possibility of you being a spy to that fact and that line of thinking simply didn’t make any sense. Why toe the line of death for your enemies?

Shifting and crossing your arms, you glance briefly to the advisor before looking away. You have no idea where to start. Do you just say it bluntly, or ease your way into it? Can you handle the blunt route? It’d be like a band-aid – tear it off quickly and you experience less pain. Digging your fingertips into your ribs, you take a deep breath and say, “My real name isn’t [Name] Praesidium.” You swallow down your heart threatening to crawl into your throat. “Praesidium is a placeholder, a means to hide and, supposedly, protect me.” Are you feeling lightheaded, or is that simply a byproduct from your heart ramming itself against your ribcage in retaliation? “My real name…” Another deep inhale. “My real name is [Name] Lucis Caelum.” 

There it is. The truth. It’s like the finality of the situation saps the rest of your energy as you seem to physically deflate, allowing your weak legs to shakily lower you to the roots of the tree below. You can’t even look at Ignis as the air stills around him, his chest frozen as the words process.

Eventually there’s a small rush of air as his lungs force in oxygen, breaking him out of whatever trance he’d momentarily fallen into. The silence is heavy as he buys himself more time, following your lead to rest upon the ground. Once he’s settled, his gaze takes you all in as he says, still soft and quiet, “Explain. Please.”

Damn your voice for wavering. “I am the daughter of King Regis and Queen Aulea of Lucis.” The words sound sluggish on your tongue, like they can’t believe you’re speaking them. “Twin sister to Prince Noctis and disowned at birth for—for reasons I’ve never been told.” Bringing your knees up, you wrap your arms tightly around them. “Trained to be a Kingsglaive since the very moment I was strong enough to hold a play knife.”

“Truly?” he breathes out, more to himself than to you. It was his turn to be taken aback. Eyes resting on your hunched form, he thinks back to the night you’d first met them all. The way you’d been casual until Noctis has spoken. The way you’d instantly become wary, throwing up those familiar barriers as you watched every movement made. You’d fallen onto duty and professionalism as your defense, playing up the role of experienced soldier and defender because if you didn’t, what other mask did you have?

The signs had been there. Hell, your very _appearance_ was a sign. The same black hair, the same curved eyes – the color of Regis’. Even your quick temper was reminiscent of Noctis’, and yet, because you’d been a ghost, unspoken of, unheard of, it’d never crossed his mind that you could be connected to the only bloodline that gifted its children the Crystal’s magic.

Because the truth of Lucis was that King Regis only had one child.

Removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, he debates how to respond. How did one even properly answer to a reveal like this? The very truth of your existence called into question King Regis’ motives and character, would throw Noctis’ image of his father into question. 

Not to mention what it meant for the Lucis line and the Kingdom in general. Noctis was the next ruler because he was the only heir to the King. But with your existence, and being a twin on top of it, that certainty became anything but. Once the empire situation was dealt with, it then brought up the question of where you would fit into the equation. King Regis was gone, which meant you could easily step out of hiding and make yourself known. _Should_ you let yourself known? It certainly wasn’t right to leave you in the shadows when royal blood pumped through your veins. It was your birthright.

How would the rest of the Kingdom respond to news like that, though, especially after the empire’s debacle? It would throw an already tumultuous people into even more upheaval and confusion.

Gazing at you through his bangs, taking note of the way you’ve cocooned into yourself, shoulders hunched and face downturned, he comes to the realization that, at this very moment, none of that matters. What matters is that you had just spoken a truth you may have never shared to anyone, stripped all your defenses down and in the end is prepared for a _backlash._ You are expecting him, and the rest of the gang, to ridicule and hate you because you’d kept it quiet, covered up the truth and pretended to be someone you weren’t.

But that latter wasn’t entirely true. You’d remained true to yourself with each sarcastic eye roll sent Gladio’s way, each encouraging word you’d given Prompto, each teasing remark you poked Noctis with and each knowing smile you’d throw Ignis’ way when you picked up on an underhanded tease. The way you’d analyze a situation and speak your mind, the way you’d offer to help set up dinner after a long day of travel, the way you’d point out an area Prompto might be interested in snapping a few pictures of. Your defense, of skirting the sensitive topics you didn’t want to touch upon, was also part of you as a whole.

As was the guilt that’d been eating away at you for keeping everything all under wraps.

Slipping the glasses back over his nose and rising to his feet, he approaches and offers his hand to you silently. Glancing at it with a mix of hesitance and uncertainty, you press your palm against his and allow him to help you off the dirt, your eyes darting to his own when he rests his other hand atop your clasped ones.

“[Name],” he speaks through the silence, his fingers squeezing tighter ever so slightly, “you are still you, and nothing will change that.”

You press your lips together, eyes glistening as tears well up.

“Everyone will react to the news differently. Noctis may take it considerably hard. But…” The wind shifts the leaves above, allowing the growing twilight to wink between them and bounce off the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, turning them into miniature gems as you search his emerald hues. “I find it hard to believe that you’ve been anyone but yourself, and it’s you that we’ve come to know, Caelum or not. You are [Name], first and foremost.”

Your lips wobble as you part them, an attempt to speak as the tears find their freedom and drop to your cheeks. Glancing down at your clasped hands, you own spare finds its way on top of the pile just as a sob breaks through your chest. All you can do is step closer, holding his hands close as you utter out, “Thank you.”

All of the guilt, the stress, the nerves, everything that’s been building within the last few months find their release. You sob until there are no tears left, until your eyes are so red that you’re sure you look like you’ve been trying to rub your eyes out of your head. A new kind of exhaustion finds its way between your bones as your hands finally part and you’re free to wipe the tears away, embarrassment flitting through your chest as you give out a huffy laugh.

“Six, I’m such a crybaby. What kind of a Glaive am I?” Taking a deep breath and flashing a wobbly smile at Ignis, you add, “Gladio will tease me until the end of my days if I keep this up.”

“You’ll find a way to tease him back,” he responds, smiling as you grin mischievously. Taking note of the lightening sky, he asks gently, “Shall we head back?”

Glancing up through the trees, your nerves return as you sigh. “Yeah. Gladio will probably be getting up soon, if he isn’t already. Gotta…” You rub your forehead briefly as you glance quickly at Ignis before setting your eyes on the path leading back. “Gotta face the music.”

Following the trail back to the haven of chocobos, you can hear the birds before you even break through the trees. You spot Wiz picking up a bucket of gysahls and disappearing into the barn as you return to the rounded tables that made up the caretaker’s restaurant. Slumping into the chair, you run fingers through your damp hair as you watch the caravan’s door with apprehension, your stomach flipping as the door jiggles and a shirtless Gladio emerges, paired with clean, unfamiliar pants.

He spots the two of you instantly, his eyes narrowing as he approaches. “Didn’t expect you to be up,” he comments, giving you a once over before his hues flick to Ignis who dips his head slightly in response.

Instead of pretending you hadn’t noticed the exchange, you say through your tightened chest, “I’m not dangerous, Gladio. Yes I have secrets, but I’m…” You swallow. “I’m willing to share them. So sit.”

“Alright.” Glancing over his shoulder at the caravan, he pulls out a chair and lowers himself into it. “Let’s hear it.”

So you tell him, straight to the point like you’d been with Ignis. It’s a little easier, knowing you have Ignis’ approval and support, his calm and comforting gaze flicking between you and the Shield as you speak. Gladio himself decides to lean back in the chair with crossed arms, brows furrowing as the truth reaches his ears.

“You’re shittin’ me,” is what he says once you fall silent, your thumbs pressing hard against each other as you try your best to keep Gladio’s heavy gaze. “You’re Noct’s sister?”

“Yes.” Biting your bottom lip, you keep your breathing even.

He heaves out a sigh. “He ain’t gonna take this news easy.”

“I’m surprised you are,” you say.

“Gotta be prepared for anything,” is his response, though his tense shoulders give him away. He must be Noct’s calm to his unease, the prince’s pillar in times of hardship.

It hurt to know you were that hardship.

“This brings up a lot of questions about the late King,” he mutters, his downturned lips pressing together as if to prevent himself from speaking any more.

Ignis instantly picks up on the unspoken words, his voice soft as he says, “Another time, Gladio.”

“Right. We gotta focus on keeping the prince from losing his head.”

There’s a beat of silence that falls as the sun continues to rise, illuminating the birds that are free to run around in their pens now that they’ve had breakfast. Speaking of food, Ignis rises to order from Wiz who has now ventured over to his usual spot by his impromptu restaurant.

This leaves you and Gladio alone, though it doesn’t take long for the hulk of a man to break the silence. “You aren’t much of a royal.”

“What?”

“Look at you,” he says with a small flourish of his hand, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’d rather stab someone than talk politics, you have a dirty mouth and you probably hate dresses.”

You give him a shocked look before breaking out into laughter. “I’ve actually never had a reason to wear a dress. I’d be a guard at a party, not one of the frivolous party goers.”

“You’d look good in one.”

“In a dress? Eh.”

“You should wear one sometime.”

"And watch me trip over the edges of it?”

He snorts. “You’d probably break your ankle on your heels first.”

“Honestly though. I’d break an ankle, stumble, catch the bottom of the dress, fall, and break my nose. It’d be a bad way to end a party.”

“You mean a wonderful way to end a party.”

“Glad to know my pain is enjoyable to you.”

"I’d pay to see it.”

“Wow. You need to stop throwing money at awful things, you know that?”

“It gives me an opportunity to swoop in and look like a knight in shining armor.”

“Oh, of course. Use your hurt friend as a means of getting points with other women watching. Right?”

“I think you’re misunderstanding.”

“Bullshit.”

There’s a moment when he simply grins at you and it’s enough to have you laughing once more, momentarily waving away the nerves and dread hovering in your chest. If there’s one thing Gladio’s always been able to do, it’s to get you to laugh. Ignis returns shortly after only to inform you all he’s preparing to rouse the two zombies left in the caravan, news that has you losing your humor as you watch the advisor disappear inside the tomb.

As you watch the door like a hawk, Wiz comes over to set up the tables. “I’m glad yer all safe,” is his start at a small conversation. Thanking him profusely for allowing you all to crash so late and so suddenly the night before, he’s just as adamant of waving away any sort of debt you’d feel like owing, leaving with a quick, “The birds have been feeling lonely lately.”

A wonderful invitation for chocobo cuddles, that.

Your stomach is in way too many knots for hunger to gnaw at it, but you know you should eat. Only a bite is allowed before Ignis reemerges with two very sleepy friends behind him, dressed in clean clothes and wet hair. They both collapse into the nearest chairs, Prompto yawning loudly while Noctis simply lets his head fall straight onto the table, the _thunk_ audible from even where you’re sitting.

You nearly choke on your food as you snort.

“He was inches away from faceplanting in his food,” snickers Gladio as Ignis chides the prince, the advisor rubbing Noct’s back like he’s rousing an infant. 

Prompto yawns once more before looking over and giving a small wave. “Mornin’.”

The suspense strangles, upsetting your stomach as you force down a few more bites before giving up. The rest of the gang practically inhales their breakfast, Noctis even accidentally eating a piece of lettuce in his haste. The more the prince fills his stomach, the more grounded in reality he becomes until his plate is clean and he’s tapping away at his phone, Prompto doing the same right next to him. 

Either Ignis realizes you’re about to chew a hole in your bottom lip or your stomach is about to eat itself out of existence because after determining that the prince is awake enough to take your news, he calls for everyone to gather around your small table.

“What’s up?” comes Noctis carefully, hooking a foot behind one of the chair’s legs and using his free leg to drag himself over.

“Dude, just stand up,” chuckles Prompto, dragging his chair over the correct way and plopping back down into it when he’s close enough.

Ignis glances over at you, and you realize that it’s your stage, the spotlight is focused solely on you. Clamping your hands together and taking a deep breath, you keep your eyes hyper focused on the table as you start, “I have to talk to you guys about yesterday.”

Prompto glances at Noctis, who in turn glances at Ignis with brows furrowed. With a slight nod from his advisor, the prince leans back in a poor show of nonchalance as he says, “About what? Titan or the fact that you can use magic?”

The air goes cold at Noct’s angry undertone. Yes, you’d saved the gang, saved _him_ , from death and danger, but you’d _lied_ up until then. He’s not even mad about the fact that you lied, he’s mad about the fact that you didn’t trust any of them enough – didn’t trust _him_ enough – to talk about it.

He’s never been good with politics. All the half truths, all the flat out lies and deceit. Was it just part of your job, a part of _protecting_ him? Were you ordered into silence by his father?

Another glance from Ignis tells him what he already know; he’s overreacting, probably jumping to conclusions. So he takes a deep breath and watches as you bite your bottom lip, hands clasped together so tightly that parts have turned white.

“I’d be surprised if you hadn’t figured out the magic part,” you say slowly, humor flat. “Yes, I can use magic. I never lost the ability to.”

“Why lie about it?” comes Prompto before he can stop himself, going still when he realizes he’s spoken aloud.

“Because I…” There’s that shudder of a breath. Noctis won’t take this news easily. “Because I’m not who I say I am. I’m not a Praesidium.”

“Okay,” approaches Noctis, leaning forward. “And that means…?”

Finding the courage to look up and catch Noctis’ blue hues, you throw him that curveball. “Because I’m the estranged daughter of King Regis and Queen Aulea. I’m a Lucis.” You watch his eyes grow, but know you have to say it, hammer that last nail in. “I’m your twin sister.”

He stills as Prompto leans back slowly, eyes darting between you and his friend as he breathes out, “Twin sister…?”

Your brother’s eyes have turned a little frantic, darting between you and the two flanking you, seeking a joke that isn’t there, seeking the confirmation that this isn’t real. “You’re lying. Dad would… Dad wouldn’t have done that. He would have told me. He, he…” He sounds lost, desperate, before the anger rises up. “You’re lying.”

“You two…” Prompto pipes up, glancing around nervously, “You two do look alike.”

That anger is recognizable, familiar. So is the way his eyes shine with a hurt he doesn’t want to accept, the way he seems to stumble while sitting when Ignis says carefully, “The facts add up, Noct.”

“No.”

“She used the Crystal’s magic.”

“Unless she’s one badass Crownsguard,” comes Gladio, arms folding, “she’s telling the truth.”

“But I…” Noct stands up, fingers balled into fists. “But I don’t have a sister. My dad wouldn’t have kept something like that from me! He—” He kept his upcoming death a secret, the invasion a secret, the fact that he’d risk innocents just to save his son a secret. 

What was one more?

Looking like he wants to slap his hands on the fragile table, he instead turns and yells, “Dammit!”  
“Do you want me to prove it to you?” you find yourself practically whispering, eyes squinting in a sudden anger you nearly topple over in surprise from. You knew he wasn’t going to accept it right away because you wouldn’t. Too emotional, as you’d been told time and again, emotion that can cloud your judgment and make you say stupid shit. 

The moment you realized the truth had to come out eventually, you’d prepared, run scenarios in your head, all ending similar to this. Anger and disbelief was expected and understood, so why were you so angry, so hurt, over his natural and quick denial to the lie he lived up until now? Why were you so disappointed over the fact that he couldn’t—  
Over the fact that he couldn’t accept you like you’d accepted him.

“You already proved it,” he practically spits. 

“Then why?” you ask, that dangerously calm anger stealing into your words, hiding the pain dripping beneath. “I can use magic. Why send a Kingsglaive away days before an invasion?” Your own fingers are now balled. “Regis sent a _Kingsglaive_ to chaperone you not because you needed more protection but because he had to save _both_ his damn children!”

“ _Why?!_ ” he practically screams your way. “Why would he lie, then? Why would he pretend you didn’t exist?”

There’s pain there, a strain that’s been festering for weeks, but your anger refuses to let you notice. “ _I don’t know._ You think I haven’t pondered that on nights I’m out practicing demon hunts, wondering what I did wrong to get shunned as a newborn? Wondered why _you_ got all the pampering and the chance at a normal life? Knowing that I have a brother who doesn’t know I even exist? And yet when he finds out, he _says no._ ”

Anger, hurt, stubbornness, frustration, they all overspill and mix between the siblings as you both glare each other down. Regis kept Noctis at arm’s length to protect him, ignored the way it’d tear his son apart to learn that he’d played the political game to get his son to safety. The things left unsaid, the secrets being unearthed. Weren’t they _family?_ Wasn’t he old enough, _reliable_ enough to be told shit like this? 

Weren’t you expected to roll over and accept the things that had been done, the things that were? They told you to fight, and you did. They told you to stay silent, and you did. He told you to leave, _and you did._ Given nothing, left with nothing, fighting now to hold on to the one thing you always wanted and lost once already, feeling so far out of your grasp that you hang on tighter, not for him but for _yourself._

Too little, too late.

Lies hurt, bruise, discolor. They break, shatter, and maim.

The brother’s eyes shine with frustration, tears, and guilt while the sister feels the burn of frustration, tears, and shame, both struggling to come to terms with the hands they were dealt, blaming no one but themselves and the unfairness of one man, one father, who left them both with things unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any of you wondered what Praesidium's meaning is, translated from Latin? (;


	17. From the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very busy start of the year! I apologize for the horrible consistency in uploads. Last month, January, marked this fic's one year anniversary. I got to writing the very first chapter in January 2018 and it's a miracle to see how many of you have come to love it! I can't thank you all enough for joining me in this exciting journey and for keeping my motivation going with your wonderful comments!

Fluffy cotton clouds trundle by, lazily making their way across the blue sky as you sit with your back against the rock, legs outstretched and eyes hazy. Sighing out and running fingers through your hair, you add another curse for yourself as you twirl a blade of grass around the opposite index finger, absentmindedly yanking it out of the dirt only for you to find another nearby victim to replace it.

It had been going so well. Ignis had succeeded in quelling much of your anxiety, Gladio had gotten a genuine laugh out of you. Neither had been unfazed, but they’d taken steps to make you still feel like a part of the group, like a part of the family. Then Noctis happened.

Hell, that could be your motto for the last few months of your life, really. Oh, we just got jumped by a pack of saberteeth because Noctis just _had_ to dig around this rock for forever. Welp, there he goes again in the opposite direction we just pointed to like a dog chasing an invisible squirrel he’s probably been hallucinating for his whole life that nobody’s had the heart to tell him doesn’t exist. Dinner would be nice if only Noctis stopped trying to convince everyone that tomatoes are horrible for his health and _don’t even get him started on those things called beans like what even are those._

Throw in the empire and that freaking four winged, teeth baring bird and it’s a miracle that all five of the gang were still in one piece.

Crossing your ankles, you press your lips together. Things had been going so well and then Noctis had to show that stubborn anger, _your_ anger, and it might as well have been two mirrors facing each other from then on. You should have remained calm, knowing that his anger would dissipate, that of course he’d be in denial over a twin he’d never known about.

But the way he’d called you a liar had twisted something in your heart, punched at a chord you weren’t aware existed. You’d retaliated like you always do, slapped that mask on and retreated behind it so quickly that you didn’t have time to remind yourself that you didn’t need to do that anymore, that it was all about _revealing_ everything instead of hiding it.

Emotions sucked sometimes.

Closing your eyes and allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze, you peg those hesitant footsteps to be either Prompto or Noctis. Nervous energy shoots through your veins as you prepare for yet another awkward conversation, holding yourself still as you wait for that inevitable question for your attention.

“How are you?”

Prompto, then. His hesitance brings a small, nervous smile to your lips as you peek an eye his way. “Come sit, Prompto. I don’t bite.” Moving like every step could shatter something precious, he lowers himself next to you, letting the silence settle as he waits for your answer. “I’ve been better, but, I could definitely be worse.” Bringing up a knee, you rest an elbow on it. “How are you?”

His head tilts, eyes catching your own before dropping to the ground. “I, ah, I’m doing okay.”

You nod, throwing him a smile as you consciously stretch back out. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“Ignis saw you head out this way.” The shutterbug shifts, lower lip pressed between his teeth as he finds the breath needed to speak his thoughts. “So, a Lucis?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a bit surprising.” Oh, there’s that forced optimism of his. “Someone like me getting to know two royals? I must be lucky or something.”

“I don’t really…” It’s your turn to bite your lip, brow furrowing. “I’m not really royalty, Prompto. At least, I don’t really see myself as one. Royalty has retainers, and etiquette, and crowns. I have pointy things.”

Your words stoke something in him, making his lips press together and eyes narrow. It takes a few beats before he speaks. “I kinda know what it’s like, growing up different.” Crossing his legs, he fiddles with the grass as he continues. “I grew up shy. Couldn’t talk to people. Didn’t have any friends.”

You glance over, noting the growth of his hesitance, the echo of something bigger in his words.

“It took a long time for me to approach Noct. Years, really. Didn’t…” He swallows, takes a deep breath. “Didn’t think I’d be worthy. He’s royalty, and I’m just…a nobody.”

“He’s your best friend,” you find yourself saying. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Noctis, it’s the fact that he doesn’t seem to really care about someone’s position. He sees a person, not a rank.”

“I know that now,” he says hurriedly, flashing you a quick smile. “Ever since this journey started—“ He stops and shakes his head. “Even before then, I’ve felt like I don’t belong.”

Tapping your knuckles against his tense shoulder, you flash him a smile. “You belong here, Prompto. Noctis and Co wouldn’t be complete without you. And hey, from my perspective, you gave him a bit of normality in all the crown politics, I’m sure.”

Glancing at you, he dips his head. “The same could be said about you. About belonging here, I mean.” Nervous fingers tap a knee. “I’m probably not the best person to say this, but, I don’t think they really care. You being a royal. It’s big news, but Noct’s always wanted a sibling. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” you reassure, tapping your heart for emphasis. 

“So…yeah.” He shifts again. “I guess just…don’t take it too personally. He’ll come around.”

Inhaling slowly, you give Prompto a smile on the exhale. “I guess we’re both awkward peas in a pod, huh?”

He blinks at you, an uncertain smile wobbling his lips. “Yeah, maybe.” 

“So it doesn’t bother you? That I’m related to Noctis?”

The blonde’s blue eyes might drop, but he stays facing you. Face scrunching like he’s searching for the correct words, he finally says slowly, “It’s a little weird, but, it’s not like you’re any different.”

The chuckle escapes before you can stop it. “Ignis said something similar.” You miss the way his eyes dart up, lines of thought creasing between his brows as you lean forward, stretching your arms up and huffing out a breath. “Thanks, Prompto.”

“Yeah.” Ducking his head, a finger scratches a pink dusted cheekbone. “Any time.”

Tucking your legs underneath you, you fully face Prompto and lift up a fist. Glancing at it curiously, your searching eyes bring him an understanding as he flashes a smile and bumps his knuckles against yours.

“We should work on a secret handshake,” you muse, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure you have one with Noctis, and I’d hate to feel left out.”

“I’ll come up with one that’ll make Noct jealous,” he replies with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Leaning back against the rock, you say, “So, you must have taken some amazing photos at the crater yesterday. Have you gone through them yet?”

“No, haven’t had the time.” There’s an excited smile that wiggles its way on his lips as he adds, “Wanna go through them?”

“Do you even need to ask?” As he goes to make his way back to the Post, you call after him, “And bring some chocobos back to cuddle with!”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” is what you’re replied with, a small wave accompanying his words before he’s out of sight.

~*~*~

While you’d been throwing yourself a pity party, Gladio and Ignis couldn’t stand watching the remaining kids mull over their problems and kick dust motes. Stagnation caused worrying thoughts to fester, bringing down morale and inviting depression to settle like a heavy blanket. So while Ignis subtly nudges Prompto in your direction, Gladio calls up Cindy. The Regalia was most definitely in the hands of the empire – in Ardyn’s – and that didn’t sit well with him. Promising to visit Iris while checking up on your motorcycle’s location, Cindy bids the Shield farewell as the advisor approaches the caravan, hovers for a few seconds, sighs, and enters the other sibling’s pity party.

It’s not until that evening when Cindy calls back, affirming that your motorcycle is still there and that Iris is as fine as rain. The only problem, however, is that it seems you tucked your keys in with all your other possessions in the Regalia, and thus means your motorcycle is useless. She could still deliver the ride if he wanted, or just hotwire it so it could still work in the meantime. Y’know, whatever works for the busy bee entourage. She’ll be snooping around town for any leads of where the Regalia might have been kidnapped to, so no rush on the answer for that. 

You’d been MIA all day, so he’s thankful for the extra time.

The prince’s charges understand the need to give Noctis space, so when you slip into the chocobo barn that night to cuddle up to some cute and fluffy birds until morning, nobody moves to stop you. Prompto actually joins you, wondering why he hadn’t thought to do that earlier, and Ignis finds himself relieved to know you won’t be alone.

“I would say let’s have a party,” you say after Prompto tells you of his plans to join in on the chocobo loving, “but I think the birds are enough.” To prove your point, a chocobo chick chirps from one of the pens, hopping up and down with its siblings while its mom yawns loudly.

You nearly squeak from the cuteness while Prompto actually does, whipping out his camera to capture the delight.

“Not only have I finally ridden a chocobo, hugged a chocobo, and played with a chocobo, I’ll actually be sleeping with a chocobo.” Were his eyes a little shiny, or were you imagining things? “I can die happy now.”

“Hey now,” you laugh out, tapping the pen’s door and opening it enough to step in, “remember we have those pictures to take for Vyv.”

Following you in, he squats down as the chicks rush to greet him while you ask the mother for permission to rest on her. “Kinda hard to do that without the Regalia.”

Pressing your back against the warmth of the chocobo, you yawn and say, “We’re at a literal chocobo farm, Prompto. We could just rent birds and ride to those places if you really wanted to.”

“Yeah, but, a couple hours in a car is different from a whole day on a chocobo.” Lying flat on his back, the chicks eagerly hop onto his chest and belly, one being smart and nestling into his hair. “Everyone has enough to worry about already.” Holding up his camera, he adds, “Hey, hey, hurry up and take a picture of this!”

Standing to make sure you get the right angle, you respond, “Prom, I don’t know if any of us really know what to do right now.” Snapping one shot, you move to another spot and look through the lens. “We can make plans and ruminate all day, but I kinda stopped any progress by dropping the sibling bomb.”

Raising a hand and motioning you over, the blonde pats the spot next to him. “Come join me.”

Sighing, you sit next to him, resting the camera in your lap.

“I meant like how I am, on your back!” 

Raising an eyebrow, you set the camera aside and do as requested, feeling a smile rise up as the chicks excitedly chirp and fall over each other to get to you.

~*~*~

All of your clothes are cleaned and ready to be worn the next morning. The soles of your shoes have seen better days, but it feels good to finally be in clothing that fit you. When you go to thank Wiz, you find Ignis has already beaten you to the punch, insisting that there must be _something_ you guys could do to make up for all that the caretaker’s done. You agree instantly. This leads to all of you hopping onto chocobos and setting out to check up on a wild bird Wiz had spotted not far from the farm, a small sack of gysahl greens and medicine tied securely to Noct’s bird.

With the prince taking the lead, you put yourself as far back from him as you can manage. Until he approaches you, you’ll give him space and wait patiently, even if you’re jittery with nerves. A part of you wonders if you should even be on this small adventure, but none of the boys had asked you to stay behind and Gladio had handed you your chocobo’s reigns without any second thoughts.

You’d told Ignis that you would have left if they’d told you to, but the more you thought about it, the more you wondered if you truly could have. Regardless of your relationship with Regis, you were tasked to protect his son. As a Kingsglaive, you had a duty to see that through until the end, especially after the run in with Titan. Sure, Libertus would welcome you to his hometown, but he’d have some things to say about you abandoning your post, and doing nothing but waiting while you knew of the impending dangers and could do something about them?

Even if it was futile in the end, doing _something_ is more preferable to doing nothing at all. But what if it caused more trouble, in the end? 

Even though you knew he wouldn’t, Noctis could still send you away, and his silence has been feeding the anxiety growing within you. Rubbing your face and huffing out a sigh, you do your best to push the thoughts away, instead focusing on the good of the day. Like your clean, familiar clothes, or the happy chirps the chocobos make while they talk to each other, or the fact that Gladio’s bird almost successfully bucked him off and sent him face first into the dirt.

A chuckle rises from you at the thought.

You almost abandon the group entirely when Noctis strays off the path and stumbles upon some Solheim ruins. Costlemark Tower, one of the few remnants of the ancient civilization that upheld time and survived the War extremely well. 

“There are theories upon theories of what it was used for back then,” you say with awe, hopping off your chocobo to rub your face against the closest run down wall. “Most historians believe it was a major military base of some sort, but I’m not so sure. Oooh, how I’d love to explore the depths of this bad boy…”

“Should we leave her?” jokes Gladio, carefully rubbing his chocobo’s head. It purrs with acceptance.

“If we let her loose, she might never come back,” comments Prompto.

“It’s the prince’s call,” comes Ignis calmly, the weight of his words settling on Noctis, who just rolls his shoulders with a huff.

“We have a sick chocobo to find,” he says irritably, turning his bird back onto the makeshift path.

“Noct,” tries Ignis, brows furrowing slightly.

“C’mon.”

Pretending his cold demeanor doesn’t stab at your heart, you wave the group goodbye as they trot after the prince. “I’ll be here,” you call out, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding once they’re out of sight. 

Your chocobo steps up and chirps quietly, bumping your shoulder gently. 

Patting its head briefly, you whisper, “I’m fine,” before diving headfirst into nerd mode.

The thing that made Costlemark Tower so fascinating was the intact ruins underneath the surface structure. Only accessible at night, the tower glowed red as if to warn off any daring adventurers or too curious historians from venturing where they shouldn’t. Not many people got far in its depth, and there was even a story that said a past Lucian king lost his life to the demon hordes it held.

Just like with any mystery, you wish to traverse its depth and find all the answers it might hold. Why and how does it glow red? What’s at the very bottom of the void it marks? A little niggle in the back of your mind says that what you’d find would be important to understanding Solheim and what happened upon their collapse. How was it possible that such a great civilization disappeared with barely any trace? Books say that disease ran rampant during the end of the Solheim period, around the time the Astrals took to war against themselves. For such an advanced people to barely leave anything behind, especially with massive underground structures like the one you’re standing upon right now, it just seemed a little suspicious.

But then again, it could be as simple as people having not found the secret libraries yet. Nobody can even get through this place, after all. Maybe there _is_ a library somewhere beneath your feet and you have no idea.

It makes you want to dive into its depths even more.

And maybe you will, someday. When the threat of the empire isn’t breathing down your neck and your kingdom isn’t without a ruler, when all this political nonsense is finished and your survivability looks better than a lone sabertooth at night. So in the meantime, you let yourself absorb all you can, staring at the entrance to the labyrinth and secretly wishing your glare alone could open it up, completely unaware of the lone prince making his way slowly into the ruins you’re spinning around in.

He doesn’t instantly get your attention, instead hovering awkwardly at the entrance as you stare intently up at tower’s broken body from within, imagining how tall it might have been and how many ancient footsteps you were standing on, lives you’d never know existed, names lost within the dust of time. 

Almost like how, years into the future, the footprints of the two siblings now facing each other would never be known, yet another speck of dust in the unknown timeline.

None of you really know how to approach the other. Noctis stands practically stock still, eyes finding yours before dropping. His hands clench and unclench, lips pressing together as he struggles for words. You shift your weight between your feet, holding your arms as you watch Noctis closely.

Eventually he speaks.

“I, uh…” Rubbing the back of his neck, you hear him inhale deeply. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you find yourself responding, shoulders tensed. “Anyone would be angry. I was. For years.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” He sighs heavily with his next words. “Dad always had secrets, it’s just…” He rubs his forehead. “It sucks finding them out this way.”

“More unearthed secrets just find more questions,” you say quietly, shoulders slouching as you lean against the nearest wall. “I know. It sucks. And I’m sorry it sucks.”

There’s a stretch of silence as Noct mimics you, leaning against the tower’s entrance. “So, uh… Did you know him? Much?”

You tilt your head. “Regis?” With his nod, you shake your head. “Only times I ever talked to him was when he was giving me orders. When I officially applied to be a Kingsglaive.” Taking a breath, you ask the question back. “What about you?”

“We weren’t that close.” There’s heaviness there, a regret he hasn’t shared with anyone. You pick up on it, understanding wrapping you like a blanket as you press your lips together in thought.

Ever since this adventure had started, you’d always been the one fighting tears and failing, always the one escaping for a few seconds of silence when it got too much. Yet through it all, you’d never once seen any of the guys retreat for a breather. When Iris’ fate was unclear, Gladio never let his worry show. Prompto’s smile had never faltered, Ignis had remained as stoic as ever, forever the pillar to the group. And Noctis? Learning of his father’s death and Luna’s false one, watching as his home went up in smoke, all he’d ever done was yell briefly at Cor before pretending it was all okay again.

Sure, maybe the guys had straightened themselves out during the time you’d been tapped out after the raid on the base, but it’d never seemed right to ask. Nobody ever really did. They’d catch you crying, help pat out the tears, and watch you continue on.

But everybody was different. Maybe in order to face it, one needed to be asked first. And while you may be overstepping a thousand and one boundaries, you take a deep breath and ask, “How have you been holding up?”

A stillness steals over his body as he glances briefly in your direction. His mouth opens before closing again, brow furrowing as his own shoulders slump. You’d stopped running, you’d thrown all your cards out on the table. Maybe it was his turn to return the favor, at least a little bit. “I don’t know,” he tells you truthfully.

Duty calls for every royal. He’d grown up into extra responsibilities, extra lessons. As his time became more consumed, he started seeing his father less and less. Family dinners became meals taken in his room or between sword lessons with Gladio. The time he’d take to share daily experiences became expensive gifts instead. A rift had cracked, then grown, and soon he couldn’t see the other side, either through bitterness or an overwhelming sense of hurt he couldn’t tell, but he’d loved his father underneath it all. He was family, his only parent left.

It’d been a kick to his gut to get the confirmation of his dad’s death. A part of him didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t, but seeing Cor standing behind a tomb that could easily have been his father’s? Learning that his dad _knew_ of his fate and sent him away with nothing but a car and empty words, knowing he’d have more than just a vacation ahead of him with no preparation whatsoever, couldn’t tell his father that he loved him, or ask him why, what had been going through his head, how wrong he was to do this or _anything._

The words left unsaid hurt the most.

But he was the prince, the new _King._ He couldn’t let it show, not because he had to be strong for his friends and his Kingdom, or be the Chosen One the world knew him to be, but because if he broke he wasn’t sure he’d be able to glue the pieces back together.

So he tells you the truth in those three words. He’s not sure if he’s held on as well as he thinks he has. He doesn’t know how to handle his father’s passing, the situation he’s in now, anything. So when you step over and rest your hand against his shoulder, tell him it’ll be okay, he believes you.

“It sucks,” you say, squeezing gently. “Take all the time you need. I’ve taken years to get to some sort of understanding, and to be honest, I have no idea how I’d react if I could see him again. The thoughts of Nyx and Crowe still make me want to bawl at times.” You give a one shoulder shrug. “I don’t think I’m okay with their deaths yet either.”

There’s that familiar prick of tears, one he blinks back furiously as he says quietly, “Thanks.”

Tapping him lightly on the shoulder and flashing a small smile, you lean next to him and ask, “So what was it like, growing up in the castle?”

He shrugs, grateful for the topic change. “Kind of annoying. People expected things of me.”

“Had to be princely.”

There’s a nod, lips pressing together. “I went to the arcade a lot.”

You hum. “Prompto is a bad influence.”

“Nah.”

“You saying you’re the bad influence?”

There’s a bit of amusement in his scoff. “Of course not.”

“I mean, you’re the one that gets us into trouble all the time.”

“Am not.”

“We almost got eaten by a giant bird with teeth.”

“I’m not the one who faceplanted onto the pavement and blamed a daemon for their crappy driving.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You both share a smile.

“So…” The seriousness returns as Noct glances away, runs a hand down his arm. “How long have you known?”

“About…everything?” you ask uselessly, gesturing vaguely between you two. He nods. “A long time,” you sigh out. “I did my best to avoid you. Had to. Ordered, but, I was jealous too. You had everything I wanted. Then Regis sent me here, and…” You shrug, look away. “Now I think it’s what I thought I wanted.”

He pauses, eyes searching the ground before he finds the courage to say, “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” you whisper, breath catching as your eyes burn. “Me too.”


	18. Of Magic and Storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I've been struggling real bad with writer's block. It just seems like anything I write is so...lackluster. The last thing I want to do is give you guys mediocre chapters, so I've been making sure to give each and every sentence the care and love it needs, even if it means having to rewrite them a thousand and one times. Thank you all so much for your love and patience. All of you really keep me going when things start getting rough <3
> 
> We've gotten over 350 kudos and we're close to 4500 hits! You guys are absolutely fantastic!

“Just _will_ it.”

“Will it how?”

“Like how you will the final boss to die when he keeps punching you to death.”

“What?”

“I don’t think it sounds that hard.”

“Easy for you to say, Prompto.”

"Hear me out, Noct. Remember that one Assassin’s Creed game, where it wanted you to assassinate this one person from the rafters of this building but he was surrounded by people 24/7?”

The prince groans. “Don’t remind me.”

“I remember someone being impatient,” comments Ignis, sipping a cup of very strong coffee Wiz brewed for him earlier. It wasn’t Ebony, but it’d have to do until he got his heart-attack-in-a-can back. 

His addition to caffeine was concerning.

“It was glitchy!” defends Noctis.

“So your magic is glitchy too?” questions Gladio as he sits on a nearby rock, arms crossed and smile sly.

“Probably.”

“It’s not glitchy,” you scoff. “Magic is weird. Some people figure it out quicker than others, hush. Can you do magic, Gladio?”

“I don’t need magic.”

“Great way of answering no, you can’t do magic.”

“I wish I could use magic,” says Prompto wistfully.

“There’ve been stories that some Crownsguard members could,” you say with a shrug. “I’ve just heard it in passing though.” 

Tapping an index finger against the mug, Ignis speaks up. “There are a few written accounts. I believe it’s where the late King got his idea for his Kingsglaive.”

“Really?” echo the three youngest, two of which instantly add, “Jinx you owe me a soda.”

"What?” you question as the two friends glare each other down.

“Fight it out in King’s Knight later?” challenges the blonde.

“You know I’ll win,” comes the confident reply of the prince.

“Guys,” you say, snapping your fingers. “Noctis. Focus. Magic first, sodas later.”

He groans. “Yeees, mooom.”

“Don’t call me mom. That’s Iggy’s job.”

“Fiiine,” he huffs with an eye roll. “So I _will_ magic to just _be?_ ” he asks irritably, gesturing to the heavens above him. “Cause that isn’t confusing at all.”

“Noctis, no.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh. “When you call forth one of your tagged items, how do you do it?”

“I just put it back.”

You pause. “What?”

Leaning over to Ignis, Gladio asks quietly, “No response to the mom comment?”

“Why?” responds Prompto before Ignis gets the chance. “It’s true. He _is_ the mom friend. He cooks, he cleans, and most importantly, he scolds.”

The advisor takes a sip of his coffee. “Unfortunately, it’s true.”

Leaning back onto the heels of your feet, you cross your arms. “Like what, putting them back into existence?”

“Kinda?” With a confused eyebrow raise from you, he shrugs. “I dunno, the camp chair is supposed to be there, so it goes there.”

You think you’re starting to get it. “So you’re confident you can pull that item from your magical inventory because it wasn’t originally a part of that to begin with.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Okay. So…how about imagining that the fire or ice or whatever _belongs_ where you want it to be?” you ask hesitantly. It doesn’t sound as great as it did in your head, but maybe he’ll get an idea? You know he’s already able to somewhat grasp it from previous conversations of burnt hands in a particular icy cavern. “For example.” Holding out your hand with a small ball of flame in the palm, you say, “The fire _belongs_ in my hand.”

He scrunches his face at the flame. “It’s going to burn me.”

“But if it belongs there, it won’t burn, right?”

His eyes squint.

Sighing, you grab a stick off the ground and hold it up. “Set the end on fire. We can focus on things not burning or whatever later. The flame _belongs_ on the end of the stick.” You tap his forehead with it. “You’re able to push the magical energy into flasks. Imagine that energy instead on the end of this stick.”

There were so many things wrong with your conjecture there. A flask was _meant_ to hold magic inside it, the glass enchanted to keep whatever magical energy that entered it from pressurizing and bursting the flask open without any outside force. A stick was just that, a stick. So when Noctis huffs and does what you ask, it bursts into a ball of flame that singes your whole hand in the process and requires a lot of stomping to put out.

“Like I haven’t been burnt enough in the past few days,” you hiss out, shaking your hand before hovering your other over it, ice magic dropping the temperature and cooling your skin.

After making sure he didn’t just burn your entire hand off, he huffs out, “I told you.”

“No, it’s good. You did what I asked.” He blinks in surprise as you flash a smile. “You didn’t set anything else on fire _but_ the stick. Granted all of it, but we can work on that. The most important thing is controlling where the magic goes.” Flexing your hand, you give it a frown. “That’ll be tender for a couple days.”

Knowing that if this kept on there’d just be more burnt hands to deal with, Ignis drains the rest of his mug and rises from his rock. “Shall we grab lunch?”

You give him a double thumbs up as Prompto groans, “I could eat a horse.”

“How about a chocobo?” offers Gladio.

Prompto gives him a very stricken look. “Don’t you ever say that to me again.”

“We’re not eating chocobo,” you chuckle, falling into step behind the Shield as he leads the way back to the Post. “Though speaking of—”

“ _Hey,_ ” warns Prompto.

“—are we going to have to rely on the birds now for transportation? Cindy hasn’t gotten back to us, right? It’s been a couple days.”

“Shouldn’t the car have turned up by now?” questions the blonde, content with the change of subject.

“We should wait until Cindy’s done asking around the local garages before we despair,” comments Ignis.

“Let’s not fool ourselves,” grumbles Gladio, crossing his arms and glancing back. “The empire has it.”

“Or _someone_ has it,” you sigh out.

“Then,” comes Prompto lightly, knowing he’s treading on fine waters, “maybe we could ask Ardyn to help us out again, right?”

You can practically _feel_ the eye roll in Gladio’s voice. “The imperial chancellor.”

The siblings share a very similar disgusted face.

“The chancellor represents a problem, not a solution,” warns Ignis.

The shutterbug shrugs. “Then where does that leave us?”

“Stranded,” comes the simple reply of the advisor. “Awaiting word from Hammerhead.”

“In the meantime,” comes Gladio, pointing to the penned chocobos as you hit the Post, “we’ll have to hoof it.”

“Good point,” you say, grabbing the nearest chair and plopping into it. “We shouldn’t loiter here forever. If the empire has the car, then we’re going to need to get it back.”

“Without killing ourselves in the process,” adds Gladio as Ignis waves over Wiz to order.

“It’s better to stay on the move when being hunted.” Resting your chin on your overlapped hands, you give a frown. “Ardyn knows exactly where we are because he dropped us off here. I don’t like it.” Dirty, hurt, and shaken from the experience with Titan, days of rest was imperative for the gang to get back on its feet. Now that morale was back up and the worst was on the mend, it wasn’t wise to stay in the enemy’s sights.

“Then what’s our next move?” asks Prompto, tipping his chair onto its back legs.

“That’s the conundrum,” responds Ignis, sitting down and crossing his legs. “Even without the Regalia, all of our provisions are lost.”

“And living things can’t be tagged,” you add. “So it’d be super hard to cart around ingredients for meals in between towns.” Tilting your head slightly, you continue. “I could always try to gather information on my own. My bike is still in one piece, though that doesn’t solve the stationary problem for you guys.”

“Why don’t we go back to Lestallum?” offers Prompto. “Iris is there, and Talcott and Jared. I’m sure Noctis could sniff us out a couple jobs to do too.”  
“I’m not a dog,” defends the prince.

“That’s not a bad idea,” muses Ignis.

“We still have those pictures for Vyv we still gotta do. Those are kind of on the way, I think,” you say, throwing the shutterbug a quick smile. Hopefully Vyv still _wanted_ those pictures. Six, it felt like forever since he gave you that task, though it hadn’t even been a week. “Gotta jumpstart Prompto’s career.”

“Look at you,” comes Noct, bumping his friend on the shoulder, “already trying to make a name for yourself.”

“Oh, stop it,” says the blonde, dipping his reddened face away. “My pictures aren’t _that_ good.”

“I beg to differ,” defends Ignis. “No one can capture my visage quite as well as you can.”

If you’d been drinking something, you’d have choked on it. Instead you clamp down on a sudden laugh, making a weird strangling sound as it escapes your chest. “Ignis, you pose every time the camera faces your way.”

“Of course I do,” he says matter of factly, one side of his lips twitching ever so slightly. “A servant of the crown must always look his best.”

This is Gladio’s turf, and he struts into the tease like he’s rehearsed it a thousand times. “Even though our charge skimps on hygiene and is in bad need of a haircut?”

Like always, Noctis rises to the bait. “What?”

“How have you not gone cross-eyed yet with your bangs always in your eyes?”

“I can see just fine!”

You sidle your way into the banter. “Maybe Ignis wears glasses because he’s trying to make up for your dwindling eyesight?”

Wishing he hadn’t given his mug back to Wiz, Ignis instead covers his smile by dipping his head and putting his fingers to his chin, sounding aggrieved as he says, “I must do what I must for His Highness.”

You snicker as Noctis almost rolls his eyes right out of his head.

Almost like it was scripted, as soon as lunch is inhaled a black dog comes trotting up, book secured to its back and a smile evident on its cute face as it plops down a few feet from the table, tail thumping happily. Nobody seems surprised to see the dog except you, evident when you turn to them all perplexed and they look like it’s an everyday occurrence. Prompto even has a name for the pup.

“Look, it’s Umbra!” he exclaims as Noctis practically pops out of his seat.

Umbra barks, stands, and trots a few paces away, looking back expectantly when no one moves.

“Someone is sending us a message,” observes Ignis as Noctis falls into step behind the dog.

While the rest of the gang follow Umbra like it’s a normal day at the park, you hesitantly ask, “Who is Umbra?”

“One of Luna’s dogs,” answers Noctis happily.

“This dog sniffed you out from who knows where and succeeded?” you ask, perplexed. “And it doesn’t even look hungry at all. Damn.”

“Being one of the Oracle’s twenty-four Messengers has its perks, circumventing time-space notwithstanding,” speaks Ignis, answering some of your questions and creating more.

You almost stop walking entirely. “Are you telling me Umbra can walk through time?”

Cue Prompto vocalizing your thoughts. “That is _so cool!_ ”

“So time magic exists?” you muse, mind running furiously.

While elemental magic was the most common, other types existed. The act of tagging an item was originally thought to be a form of time magic, but in the end it was discovered to be a form of altering matter instead, similar to warping and phasing. Life altering magic also existed, branching into healing and death dealing, specific to only the Fleuret and Lucis lines respectively. It’s not that any Lucis couldn’t use the healing part of the spectrum, it’s just that that any attempts to heal more than minor paper cuts resulted in a sudden switch to life taking instead, and no amount of effort and mastering of the death dealing end fixed the problem, Ring or no Ring.

The debate was that the healing factor was for the Oracle only, though that would mean that the Oracle got her power from the Crystal just like the Lucis line, making the legend of the Oracles using the power of Eos a little misleading. Plus the Oracles only purged the Starscourge from people. They weren’t able to cure diseases or mend broken bones.

Regardless, time magic was one of the only types of magic still in the myths and legends stage, some believing it was only for the Six to use and that’s why no human could use it. Having Umbra’s time space shenanigans confirmed happened to give some solidification to that side, although you’ve always been a firm believer that if it exists in any form, then anyone with a gift for magic could figure it out. You could use ice magic just like Shiva, after all. On a lower scale, sure, but you both used and manipulated the same energy.

Umbra’s bark takes you out of your thoughts. Looking down at his cute form, you almost give into the urge to pet him. You might have too, if Noctis didn’t turn and announce Gentiana.

Now she was a sight to behold, closed eyes framed by silky black hair and a porcelain demeanor. Her voice matches her mysterious air as she says, “Hear me, O King of the Stone.”

Glancing at the others briefly and noting their relaxed postures, you return to watching the woman curiously as she continues.

“By the Stormbringer’s blessing will the path to the Stone be opened. The Oracle goes hence in her King’s name.”

The mention of Lady Lunafreya makes Noctis tense. “Luna. Where is she now?”

“The eye of the Storm.”

Cause that isn’t totally foreboding. Your brother doesn’t seem very keen on that explanation either, a strained sigh escaping his chest.

“When the covenant is forged, the Oracle and Ring shall await their King at the Walls of Water. Stray not from the path.”

By the way she talked, you were guessing she was another Messenger. Fairytales had dragons and wizards that spoke in riddles to confuse the protagonists, a feeling you were oddly getting vibes from as you blink and Gentiana disappears, like her existence had been nothing but a fever dream.

A part of you wonders if it was just that, something of an illusion. Umbra had the time space shenanigans, not the black haired beauty. Unless Gentiana could somehow phase in and out of existence similar to the pup, you were at a complete loss. Though to be fair, most things involving the Astrals made no sense and you’d learned to just shrug and keep walking, turning your attention to things you _could_ comprehend.

Ignis confirms your former suspicion, though his words are directed at the very confused Prompto. “She’s a Messenger, a spirit faithful to the Oracle.”

“For real?” comes the blonde, his brow furrowed in confusion. “They aren’t just dogs?”

Crossing his arms, Gladio’s the one to gravely respond, “We’re going beyond real now, pal.”

Everyone shares the same glance: _What does that mean for us?_ Hunting down tombs was one thing, but now it seemed like the stakes were just raised and you’re all woefully unprepared. Titan was an accident turning out to be planned, and none of you are quite sure how to handle that or how it pieces in to the overall picture. What was Lady Lunafreya up to? What do the Astrals have to do with taking back the Kingdom and the Crystal? You were all just a five man army, yes, but Astrals were infamous for their hibernation. They decided to peace out around 2000 years ago after the Crystal had been handed over, so what made this empire takeover so special? The future looked grim but not impossible. Perhaps Lady Lunafreya simply wanted to ensure Noctis and Co’s success in taking back the Kingdom.

The murder of the former King, kidnapping of the Crystal, and the capital’s invasion and takeover would definitely make you exhaust all your options. If it was overkill, so be it. Better to be over prepared than under prepared.

“So, what?” you ask as Noctis bends to retrieve something from Umbra’s pack. “Umbra couldn’t have just traveled with a note from Lady Lunafreya? What was up with—it was Gentiana, right?—with Gentiana coming here herself?”

Ignis glances over as Noctis flips open a book, pressing his hand gently against the exposed pages. “Umbra has his own special task.”

Curiosity piqued, you follow Ignis’ line of sight as Noct fishes a pen out of Umbra’s pack, holding the book like any sudden movement would shatter it completely as he taps the tip of the writing utensil gently against his chin. Taking a step forward, Ignis’ hand coming to rest gently on your arm stops your feet.

“If you ask, he’ll just deflect,” says Prompto teasingly, loud enough for Noctis to hear.

“Lover boy is self-conscious,” jumps in Gladio, a smile thrown at Noct’s back.

“Lady Lunafreya and His Highness communicate by writing to each other via that book,” informs Ignis, his fingers slipping minutely down your skin as he retracts his hand. The motion sends goosebumps down your arm, something you try to hide by swiping your hand down the patch of raised flesh and pretending like your confusion at the response doesn’t exist.

The sudden attention to sensation bring about the realization of a sense of mugginess trailing down your throat as you take in a breath, causing you to look up and spot the sudden gray clouds overhead. When did the sun disappear? There wasn’t a cloud in the sky just five minutes ago.

Shifting your weight and wondering when the flash rain is going to drop on you, you ask, “So instead of calling each other like any normal person, they send a time jumping dog back and forth? A time jumping dog I’ve never seen before, mind you.” Shrugging with a smile, you add, “I think normal post mail would be faster.”

“But it’s not as romantic,” says Prompto like it was obvious. “I’d make a diary with Cindy any day.”

You and Gladio share a smirk, the Shield voicing both of your thoughts. “Good luck with that.”

“Hey, start a career with Vyv and maybe Cindy will take notice,” you try, patting the blonde on the shoulder and glancing up once more as the first set of raindrops tickle your scalp. 

Gladio grunts as the prelude to the drench streaks across the sky and the gang instantly looks like they went swimming in the ocean. Noctis looks particularly miserable as he meanders over to the rest of the gang, black hair sticking to his cheekbones and eyelids, giving truth to his Shield’s previous words before swiping the curtain of hair out of his eyes. 

“First fire, now water,” comes Prompto, tilting his face up in exasperation. “Which one is worse? Think I’d take water. Less life threatening.”

“But not as epic when you walk out of it,” you chuckle, already feeling a shiver slithering up your spine.

“Why a storm?” questions the prince sadly, picking up his feet miserably. “My socks are already getting soaked.” 

“Better than them burning off,” mumbles Gladio.

As if he isn’t standing in the middle of a supernatural storm and losing body heat by the second, Ignis calmly places a very soaked hand on a very soaked hip and expertly steers the conversation. “Lady Lunafreya has done well to keep the Ring from falling into enemy hands.”

_Maybe because they might not know she has it?_ you wonder as Prompto says, “All we have to do is hit Altissia.”

“That entails passage aboard a ship.” Squinting his eyes briefly in thought, Ignis turns to Gladio. “Caem may serve us now as it did them then.”

“The hidden harbor…” muses Gladio, crossing his arms before remembering his leather jacket is now soaked. “Just might work. I’ll have Iris set it up.”

“So, in the meantime…” starts Prompto, gesturing to the lightning streaking overhead.

“We head into the Storm,” finishes Noctis, taking the first step toward the chocobo pens.

“Another day,” comes Prompto as he moves to follow, “another deity.”


End file.
